Suicidal
by Lets-have-dinner-LS
Summary: John makes a new friend named Lia, Lia is an American who works for Mycroft leaking information. She quits once Sherlock reveals he faked his death, and starts to fall in love with him. She turns to working on the force with Lestrade. Most cases written about in this fic will be suicides or faked suicides. Probably going to be rated M for future Sherlock/OC.
1. Chapter 1

**I have many chapters already written for this fic, but if you want to give me any advice about what you think should be next, I'll see if I can fit it in. I've kind of gone a bit off the rails with this one, I feel like I haven't fully captured Sherlock's personality, you wont' see any Sherlock in this chapter, but the next chapter is Christmas, and he reveals himself to John and Lia.**

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One day I may learn to listen to my own advice, maybe even the advice of a few others, but that day was apparently not today. People were always telling me "You can't save everyone Lia." Well I'd be damned if I didn't try.

As I walked though London, I started getting this uneasy feeling, a feeling I had only had two other times in my life. Once when my father died, and again when my mother killed herself, which is why I was currently in London and not my little home town in the middle of nowhere, Missouri.

While lost in my thought about the feeling I was having I ran straight into a man.

"I'm sorry sir," I started, only hesitating when I looked up at his face. He had the same look about him as my mother had before she had taken her own life right before my eyes. "Would you like to get coffee?" I didn't know what else to say, but I had to get him away from the river

"No, thank you, I really couldn't" He said as he glanced back at the river.

"I really think you should, because I'm not going to walk away from someone contemplating suicide." His mouth fell open and he stared at me. "My mother killed herself, jumped from our upstairs balcony with a rope around her neck before I could get to her. If I can stop someone else from killing themselves, then I will. So, coffee, now, please."

I didn't wait for an answer, I just grabbed his hand and walked him away from the bridge and the river below it. "So why do you want to die? My name is Lia by the way, Lia Williams."

"John Watson, Ms. Williams, and my best friend killed himself right in front of me. Jumped from a rooftop."

"Well we don't need you being an idiot too Mr. Watson. Killing yourself won't bring him back."

I sat us down at a little cafe and ordered two black coffees and lit a cigarette. "Tell me about him. He must have been a great friend to elicit such a response to his death."

"No, not really. Forget about you completely if he was busy _thinking_. Happened often. But he was my best friend. Allowed me to live again after I got back from the war. Before him I had nothing, and now I have nothing all over again."

"Er... More than just friends then?"

"No. Gods no. He was just a friend who got me out of a rut."

Our coffees arrived just then, so I had enough time to process our conversation and decide where I wanted it to go next. When he told me his name I figured he was the J.H.W. my boss, Mycroft Holmes, gave me a file on. I have yet to read it, but I'm sure Mr. Holmes had already figured that out. Hence, scheduling and canceling a meeting all in the same day. I don't think I walked into Mr. Watson by chance.

That did not in any way change the fact that I wanted to help him. So, I did the smart thing, and came clean.

"Mr. Watson, do you by chance know Mycroft Holmes?" I asked as I dug into my bag.

"Yes, he's my friend's older brother. Why do you ask?"

"Because," I said as I placed the file down on the table between us, "I believe he orchestrated our meeting."

Watson looked at me as though I had grown another head while speaking, but he made no move to look at the file. "Yes I work for Mr. Holmes, no I did not know I would be meeting you today, I only came to the conclusion that you are in fact the J.H.W. that this file is about because I know Mr. Holmes well enough to know that he would not chance me not meeting you. I told him I would not be a glorified babysitter for his brother's best friend, yet here we are. I would like to get to know you, but I would also like to do so without that file. So, if you could take that, and possibly burn it, that would be great."

"What, exactly, is it that you do for Mycroft?" He asked eying me suspiciously.

"Generally I access information that would otherwise be, well, difficult, for Mr. Holmes to gain access to on his own. American information mostly, but some other countries as well when needed. But as he does not need information on a country at the moment, I'm assuming he wants information on you. I do not spy on individual people, only on governments and organizations."

"Mycroft doesn't have difficulties with information," Still suspecting I was up to no good. Well good for him.

"No he doesn't, because he pays handsomely for the information that I, and people like myself, provide for him. Does that surprise you Mr. Watson?"

"Just John. And no, not really. I guess even he would need people to figure some things out for him. I just always assumed he did most of his Intel gathering on his own."

"He is a very smart man, a genius even. That's why he employs people who can cover their tracks so no one knows how the information got from point A to point B."

"If you don't know about me, then you must be new to the British Government?" Maybe he was trying to get to know me, maybe he wanted to know what Mycroft wanted exactly. I couldn't tell, but it made no difference to me.

"Yes and no. I fed information from America when my mother was still alive, but after she killed herself, Mr. Holmes offered me an apartment, er-flat he called it, here in London, along with an office and unlimited flying miles, for work and pleasure he said. I don't travel for pleasure though, no use when I can get work done and enjoy myself at the same time."

"I see why Mycroft chose you, Sherlock was addicted to his work as well."

There was the name I had been waiting to hear. I knew there was something off about his death, I asked Mycroft if it was possible his brother had faked his own death, but the older Holmes wouldn't say. I've been secretly trying to find out on my own, which was taking far too much time. The medical examiner who wrote up the paper work had all sorts of photos and notes on the case, but the photos just didn't sit right with me. They were a Caucasian male, but I don't think they were Sherlock Holmes. All shots with his face in them were taken before the body was cut open, and the funeral was a closed casket ordeal.

"Well Mycroft also chose me because I am a woman who will do whatever it takes to get to the truth. Now, I must get back to my office and call the man in question, but I will give you my number, and you will call me to meet again. No more thinking what you were thinking when I bumped into you. Might be Mycroft Holmes himself next time. Wouldn't want that." I wrote my number down and passed it to him. "Good bye John. I'll see you later."

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**Let me know what you think, I will upload the next chapter tomorrow, and the chapter after that the next day, so please be patient, I just want to keep some content to myself while I'm still writing this one... Once I get the whole thing finished I will put everything up and give anyone who wants it a PDF link to download the story.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Sherlock decides he's coming back... John blanks out and Lia punches Sherlock in the face... She's kind of a violent person... Sorry if it's a short chapter...**

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For the next three months John and I met up occasionally for coffee or dinner. Once or twice the idea of a relationship came up but once discussed we figured a friendship between the two of us would be better.

The day I not only discovered the truth, but was not expecting it at all, came sooner than I ever thought it would.

It was Christmas. John and I were watching a movie in his flat at 221b Baker Street. I spilled some wine on my blouse and John had me upstairs changing into one of his shirts while he tried to get it out before it stained. We had been yelling back and forth to each other for some time, about how silly Christmas films could really be. I had brought a few DVDs from home, and he had shown me a few that had only ever aired in Britain.

"I guess Rudolph is a misfit in either country then." I had yelled, but silence greeted me.

I'd been a visitor of John's flat often enough to know where he kept his gun, so I grabbed it and slowly walked down the stairs.

"John are you alright?" Still silence. When I reached the bottom of the stairs John was standing there, holding my blouse, in shock. I looked around and saw a tall man, familiar face, but I couldn't place him right off, I only noticed that he wasn't armed and lowered the gun. I walked over to John and sat him down on his chair, taking my blouse out of his hands, he had done a wonderful job getting the wine out, and turned back around.

I stared at the man only a moment longer before I set the gun on the coffee table, and punched him in the face. "You son of a bitch. You did fake your own death. I've been right all along." John was up again, standing behind me, still looked a bit shocked, but I could see he wanted to punch Sherlock too.

"Well Ms. Williams, I expected such a greeting from my good friend John, but not a woman I have never met before." He kept himself out of my reach, "My God you have an excellent right hook madam."

"I'm assuming you told your brother you're alive then? And he told you about me." I was calm, much more calm than when I had thought John was going to pass out right in the middle of his own living room. "Does Mrs. Hudson know? Or did you just come straight up here to put John into shock?"

"Actually I thought he'd be happy to see me."

"He will be, just give him a moment. Or stand still so he can clock you too." I smirked at him then turned around to look at John. He was pale. I had seen him at his lowest moment in life, I had met him in that moment, and he hadn't looked nearly this bad. I maneuvered him over to the couch. "John, look at me. He's not going anywhere. I'll shoot him in the leg if he tries."

"Ms. Williams I really don't think violence is necessary."

I turned back to look at him again, "Then you'll go over to your chair, and sit down like you had never left. Play your damned violin or something while I talk him down from his shock. You broke an already broken man. Everyone keeps telling me what a genius you are, but so far I've seen a very stupid man do a very stupid thing."

Sherlock didn't say a thing to that, just walked over to his chair and picked up his violin. He didn't start playing, but I was no longer paying attention to him. I was back to John.

"See, he's not going to leave. It really is him, he really is here, and it's Christmas. So come on, I know you bought him a present every year he wasn't here, you can give them to him now." I stood John up, and walked him over to the kitchen. He went to the place he hid all Sherlock's presents, along with the one he had gotten me this year apparently, and took the gifts into the living room. I started some tea, deciding to give the two men a moment alone before going back in there.

From the looks of things, John still hadn't said anything, so I sat the tea on the coffee table, and went over to my bag. "I got you something John. Figured you needed a jumper that was, well, less tacky." I handed him the package.

He kept his eyes on Sherlock but handed me my gift as well. I opened it and pulled out a charm for the bracelet I never took off. It was an angel. John had called me his guardian angel on more than one occasion. "Thank you John it's perfect." I took the other three gifts from his hands and handed them to Sherlock. "I believe these are yours."

I handed both the men cups of tea, and readied myself to leave. "I'll leave you two alone for now. I'll be back in the morning." I picked up my bag, and walked over to John to give him a hug like I normally do when we part ways. "Merry Christmas John."

As I left the flat, I pulled out my phone to call Mycroft. "Your brother just broke my friend."

"Merry Christmas to you too Ms. Williams. Sherlock showed up then?"

"Yes he did. And I would like to know why John didn't get any warning."

"I figured you would have told him your theory by now. I just sent you the proof you've been waiting for."

"Why would I tell him my theory, when there was the slightest chance I could be wrong? I don't like getting people's hopes up just to break their hearts when I am proven wrong."

"Either way, I thought it would be the perfect present to get the both of you this Christmas. You've been trying to track my little brother in your personal time when you weren't spending time with John. And John was so depressed before you came along he was about to jump off a bridge because of my brother."

"Mr. Holmes, I don't mean to sound rude, but I don't think I can work for you anymore."

"I completely understand, I would have fired you had you thought you could still work for me. I'll buy you a place to start that bakery you dreamed of when you were younger shall I?"

"The hell. How? No, never mind, you're Mycroft freaking Holmes. Thank you, but I don't want a bakery anymore. I'll send any information I receive from my contacts straight to your secretary, but only when they volunteer the information. I won't go out of my way to find it anymore. And you and I will have no direct contact again. I will take a job with the local police, and I will help John and Sherlock in any way they ask, so long as everything is in John's best interest."

"Completely understandable. You were on the police force in America before you started trading in information, you should have no trouble getting on Lastrade's team. I will of course help in any way I can."

"In other words you'll tell them to hire me on the spot so that the whole force will never take me seriously, and I will have to work twice as hard to be appreciated? Well I do like hard work, but that won't be necessary, just give them a reference. Good bye Mr. Holmes."

As soon as I hung up, my phone buzzed letting me know I had a text.

**I'm fine now. I'll see you tomorrow. -JW**

I wrote him back as I walked into my flat.

**I'll bring your shirt by. I just quit my job, going to try to work with the police instead. What do you think? -LW**

I went to my room and changed into my pajamas. I knew I was keeping off the subject of Sherlock Holmes. I had mastered avoiding the topic for the past three months so no one would know I was looking for the man. And now he was home, alive and well it would seem. I felt bad that all I wanted was for him to have actually been dead. John would have been fine, no chance of losing your best friend twice normally. But now he's back, not only that, the stupid man was probably going to pick up the first case he could find.

**Sounds great. Greg will love working with you again. -JW**

I had helped solve a minor case a month ago, one of my informants had been murdered, and there had only been one suspect in my book. Greg had come to dinner a few times with John and I, we had even flirted a bit, but I didn't see it going anywhere so I didn't bother taking it any farther than just innocent flirting.

**I hope so. Good night John. -LW**

I went to bed thinking about all the things people had told me about Sherlock Holmes. John had given the most information, seeing as he knew him best. Grieving people do tend to talk a lot to their friends, I've only known John three months and in that time he seems to have taken to me. I knew almost everything I would ever know about Sherlock Holmes, more than I cared to know, but I'm a good friend. Always willing to lend an ear.

I could kill Sherlock for what he put John through.

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**Sorry if you don't like it... Spoiler: Farther into the fic Lia will punch Sally in the face for calling Sherlock a freak**


	3. Chapter 3

**Sherlock gets to deduce Lia... And figure out she's not so stupid herself.**

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I arrived at 221b around 9:30 A.M. I knocked on the door and Mrs. Hudson answered. "Hello Lia dear. The boys are upstairs. After you left last night they had quite a domestic."

"They're not a couple Mrs. Hudson." I handed her the news paper. "How are you today?"

"I'm fine. My hip has been acting up, but I'll be alright." She started making tea, "Why don't you go up and see how they're doing, I'll be up with the tea in a minute."

"Thank you Mrs. Hudson. I have something for you." I handed her the Christmas present I hadn't had a chance to give her the night before. "There's also a card for a doctor who can look at your hip and fix it right up. I'm surprised Mycroft didn't send you to him before."

She opened the present and her eyes went wide. It was an Antique Cameo, not one of those knock-offs stores sell just to be _trendy_. "Thank you dear. I love it. Now you go check on the boys and I'll be right up with the tea."

"You're welcome Mrs. Hudson." I kissed her on the cheek and walked upstairs.

I didn't bother knocking, I never did when visiting John, but John was nowhere in sight. I was instead greeted by Sherlock. "Hello Mr. Holmes."

"Sherlock."

I sighed. "Hello _Sherlock_. Is John in?"

"He's still asleep. And yes I have checked on him, he's fine."

"So he told you about his nightmares then?"

"No I figured it out."

"Oh? You can deduce someone's nightmares?"

"You called him broken, he looked white as a sheet. He had nightmares after he was in the war, it's only logical he would have them after someone he cared about dies."

"So you are at least observant, and you do care in some way for him. Good. Here I thought you were just some asshole who only thought of himself. So why did you do it?"

"I was protecting my friends."

"Yeah? Mrs. Hudson, that's one I could see, defenseless old woman. But an ex-army doctor, and a D.I.? Seems they might just be able to protect themselves. You, of course, could have called Mycroft, told him what was going on, and had whatever was going to happen stopped. Your brother does run pretty much all of England, if not the majority of the world's governments."

"Mycroft told me about you. Excessively protective. Sentimental to a fault. Moral values so pure. John told me you quit working for my brother last night."

"Yes well, a man who plays with the feelings of others sort of makes me uncomfortable, because of my _moral values_."

"That's why you're so uncomfortable around me." It wasn't a question.

"Oh don't hold back Sherlock. Go ahead, deduce my life. Preferably things you did not get from John or Mycroft."

"You had a child once. You've been engaged. You owned a large dog before coming to London. You care little about your looks, only enough to not look like a slob. Tiny bit of makeup, enough to bring out your eyes. Your hair is it's natural color, and hasn't been cut in over two years, when your engagement was broken? Or when you lost your child?"

"Both." I said without even blinking, I figured he'd know everything anyway, I just wanted to see how far he'd push.

"You've kept the same necklace for the past ten years? Someone important give it to you?"

"My great-grandmother."

"Interesting, not a lot of people still have a great-grandmother."

"I don't, she died five years ago."

"I'm sorry."

"No you're not. You just want to make John happy. It's alright, I'm not sorry about it either. She was old, it was her time. I miss her, I loved her, but I knew she wouldn't live forever."

He went silent, I figured he was thinking about something. Since he was no longer paying attention to me I headed upstairs. John was covered in sweat, so I returned his shirt to the drawer I got it from and went downstairs to get a cloth and a bowl of cold water. When I returned though, he was awake.

"Don't get up unless you feel like it. He's still here, he's not going anywhere. I won't let him, I promise." Since he was awake I set the bowl and cloth down next to his bed for him to make use of if he wanted.

"I'm sorry about freezing up last night. It was quite a shock."

"Oh don't worry about it. My mom got that way sometimes, when she'd see someone who so much as had the same shirt or hat as my dad."

"It's really him though? I'm not just making it up?"

"No. It's really him." I hugged him and stood up. "Do you want me to stick around for a while today? I was going to buy you some food today, you always forget to fill your fridge. But if you want I can stick around, I could have someone else run and get things for you."

"I think I'd like it if you stayed, you've become one of my best friends, and it'd only be right for you to get to know Sherlock."

"I suppose, though I could get to know him through work for all I care, it's you I'm concerned about. I'll go downstairs and help Mrs. Hudson with the tea. You take a shower, and I'll put your sheets on wash when I get back, yeah?"

"Yeah, alright. Thank you."

"It's no problem."

I walked down the stairs to help Mrs. Hudson only to be stopped by Sherlock.

"You don't like me."

"What gave you that idea?"

"The way you look at me and the fact that you just told John you didn't care how you got to know me."

"You want to know how John and I met, Sherlock? We met on a bridge, as I was returning from a canceled meeting with your brother. John was about to jump off of that bridge and into the water below. All for the sake of you. If I hadn't accepted Mycroft's job offer, you wouldn't have had a friend to come home to. So tell me, exactly why should I like you? And why on Earth should I care about getting to know you?" I paused for a moment to figure out the wording to my own little deduction. "Especially when I'm not as stupid as you would like to think. I can see that you think you're a sociopath, but you're completely wrong, you're just a hurt broken man who didn't get what he wanted out of life because his brain made him different. You stand there with such confidence that it's sickening, but I can see in your eyes that you really just want to break down and cry. You don't know how to deal with your emotions so you push them away."

"He what?" Sherlock's face fell, ignoring almost everything I had said, and he almost did cry at that moment.

I sighed and pushed past him. "You think you're so smart, but by trying to protect your friend, you almost lost him anyway."

I walked down the stairs, not caring to hear what Sherlock had to say about that.

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**I'm kind of skeptical about this chapter myself... If you hate it that's cool, I tried though, so I'm posting it as is anyway...**


	4. Chapter 4

**Y'all are really going to hate me for this chapter... Sorry...**

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Once I finished up helping Mrs. Hudson and doing John's laundry I was so angry I couldn't see straight, but I couldn't figure out exactly why. Sure Sherlock was a selfish bastard, I knew that before he showed up. But I knew selfish people and that never bothered me this badly before. I worked for Mycroft for nearly six months, I knew a thing or two about putting up with selfish people.

I was sitting on the couch watching John, who was sitting in his chair watching Sherlock... Who in turn was sitting in his chair staring at me. Why was he staring at me? I turned to look at him instead. Trying to figure out what was going through his head. I glanced momentarily at the bruise that was forming where I had punched him, and I winced a bit.

"It's fine." He said. Of course he could see through me, he could see through anyone.

"It must hurt, I'm sorry."

"It's just a bruise, it will fade."

"Marvelous way to introduce one's self though, yeah? Punch a man in the face, just because he is who he is."

"Yes, well I rather like the impression you made. Protective to a fault my brother said. Thank you for not disappointing me."

"Well I protect my friends, I don't think that's a fault by any means." He went silent again, wheels in his head turning away, thinking about my words I'm sure. John had told me about their little disagreement about what provides better protection, I knew I had said something close enough to get him thinking about it.

I got up and went to give John a hug, "I've got to go to the station to ask Greg about a job, I'll come back later if you'd like."

"If you want, yeah."

"Alright, I'll bring dinner. Bye John. Sherlock." I left the flat and called a cab.

Once I'd arrived at the police station Greg was waiting for me outside. "You really want to work here? We don't pay nearly as well as Mycroft Holmes."

"Oh I'm sure I'll get the occasional check from Mycroft when I get information he wants, but I'd rather work somewhere that doesn't have my best friend's flatmate's older brother breathing down my neck."

"So it's true then? Sherlock is back? Faked his own death and all that."

"Yep, and to my understanding, that was partially your fault, more so the people who work for you and the people you work for. I won't hold it against you, but let's not repeat our mistakes shall we?"

"Yeah. I've been working to clear his name since he died, but not a lot of people believe me. Mycroft is the one who really got his name cleared. He should be able to help us on cases with little to no suspicion now."

"Well you tell Sally, I hear so much as one foul word about Sherlock Holmes pass from her lips, Mycroft Holmes himself won't be able to save her reputation. I know what she does, and more specifically who with. All the wives of your officers rising up against one woman, that's going to be quite the spectacle, don't you think?"

"Yes, well I'm not going to stop that from happening if it comes down to it. She's the one who got me doubting Sherlock in the first place."

"Glad we understand each other. Now what do I have to do to become part of your lovely team Detective Inspector?"

"Fill out forms, shoot a target, take a couple tests. The usual."

"Shouldn't take me too long, when do you want me to start? I'll fill out the forms tonight, just tell me when and where to take my tests and shoot the target."

"Bring me the forms and we'll get you started on January the Second? Sound good?"

"Fine, yeah. Thanks. Just have the forms sent to my flat and I'll fill them out as soon as I get home."

"Bye then, I'll see you soon."

"Yeah, bye Greg."

I got a cab to a small Italian joint not far from Baker Street and texted John.

**What do you both want, getting Italian. -LW**

**Two orders of Chicken Alfredo, and a few bread sticks if you don't mind. -JW**

**Not at all, I'll be there shortly. -LW**

"Three orders of Chicken Alfredo and a bag of bread sticks to go please."

"Well Ms. Williams, funny meeting you here." Mycroft had walked in while my back was turned, imagine that. I knew it wasn't a coincidence. He wanted something from me, or at the very least he wanted to prove I couldn't cut ties with him so easily.

"Hello, how are you today Mr. Holmes?"

"Mycroft, you don't work for me anymore, _Lia_."

"Okay, Mycroft. What is it that you want?"

"Just wondering how things went with Lestrade."

"Fine, as you well know. I should be starting sometime after the New Year. You didn't come all the way off your high horse to ask me about my next job."

"Quite right. John and Sherlock refuse to see me, I wanted to give them a file on a case I need solved, so I thought I'd bring it to you instead." He actually looked hurt, and a bit confused, like he didn't know why they wouldn't want to see him.

"Couldn't just slip it under the door?"

"No."

"Alright, I'll take it to them, but I won't make any promises, and don't contact me about it, it's not my case, so it is none of my concern. And it's because you sold out Sherlock to Moriarty. That's why they won't see you, they don't exactly trust you, hell I know better than to trust you and I worked for you for six months."

"Well do give them my deepest apologies. I do still worry about them both."

"Yeah, whatever you say Mycroft, I'll tell them those words exactly, now may I pay for my dinner and leave?"

"Oh no, I'll pay. Least I can do." And he did, even helped me carry the food to a cab. Mycroft Holmes being excessively polite? That was odd. Might add that bit in to what I tell the boys.

I rang the bell when I got to Baker Street, I couldn't really open the door with three take-out boxes and a little bag of bread.

Mrs. Hudson answered the door. "Oh, hello dear. Let me help you with that."

"I'm alright Mrs. Hudson, could you just make sure the door is open for me?"

"Alright."

I walked into the flat and noticed two things:

1. Sherlock had already started doing his experiments again.

2. John was smiling.

"I've missed that today." I said to John. "Now come help me with the food."

As we made a few plates with pasta and bread sticks Sherlock kept looking at us like he wanted to say something.

"Out with it Holmes."

"Mycroft paid you a visit?"

"Ugh. Just eat and then we can talk about your damned brother."

"I'm not hungry."

"Yes you are, you just don't like to eat, now sit down and eat your food or I'm not telling you anything."

"Yeah, you were a mother." Sherlock said sarcastically.

"She was a mother?" A look of confusion passed over John's face as he looked from Sherlock to me.

"Yes John, I had a child, she was five years old when she died."

"Oh, I'm very sorry."

"She had cancer... Can we talk about something else? Or perhaps just eat quietly." I glared at Sherlock for bringing up my maternal instincts.

No one else said a word, Sherlock looked genuinely sorry for bringing up my past. I suppose he thought I had already told John. How close did he think John and I were?

"So, Sherlock, the medical examiner who did your _autopsy_? Molly Hooper right?"

"Eh, yes."

"Wait. Molly knew he was alive? All this time?"

"So it would seem, yes. Did you ever visit her John?"

"Once, and she acted like she was mourning."

Well I had just opened a can of worms that would not easily close.

"Don't suppose we'll be visiting her to wish her a Merry Christmas then?"

"Why would we do that?" Sherlock asked.

I rolled my eyes, of course this man who didn't do sentiment would not think to visit the one person he had counted on when he was in trouble, even on a holiday like Christmas.

"Never mind. Molly will probably be around when you two do cases at some point though. You'll eventually have to forgive her John."

He mumbled something under his breath and left the room, apparently no longer hungry. It was Sherlock's turn to glare at me. The two of us ate in silence, both having let out the other's secret, not knowing what to say next.

Once we had finished eating I cleared away the dishes and started to clean them.

"No." Sherlock said behind me.

"No what?"

"I'll do it."

I snorted. From what I had heard Sherlock and housekeeping were two things that never went together. "I can manage Sherlock, go check on John, he's probably had enough of my mother hen act for a while."

"He'll be fine, I still want to know why my brother paid you a visit."

"Well he did pay for our dinner after I told him to get lost. But he wants you two to work a case for him. The file is in my bag, you probably know everything that's in there already so," I lifted my soapy hands, "You wouldn't mind grabbing the file yourself would you?"

"I don't want to work a case for my brother." Sherlock grimaced.

"I told him that, but I am just the messenger, and only this one time. I don't plan on having any further contact with your brother, and I've told him so twice. So if you really don't want to take the case, tell him yourself."

I went back to cleaning the dishes and Sherlock went to fetch the file from my bag.

I finished the dishes and begun cleaning around his experiments, careful not to actually touch any of them. When the kitchen was finally as presentable as it would ever get, I went to find John.

He wasn't in the living room, but I hadn't heard the front door open or close again, so I headed upstairs.

His door was closed, so I knocked lightly. "John? Are you alright?"

He didn't answer, I thought about checking on him, but he was probably just sleeping. I went back downstairs, and saw that not only was Sherlock on his and John's laptops, he had taken mine out as well.

"He said you could figure out passwords pretty quickly." I said, not really concerned, Sherlock probably knew any classified information I had on it. And I highly doubted he would share anything he didn't know with anyone who would use the information to do harm.

"Actually," He started, and turned my still locked laptop toward me. "I have no idea what your password is."

I laughed, it was such a simple password too. "It's my birthday, which you would have gotten off of my ID cards had you actually been looking. So why are you pretending I got one over on you when I know I haven't?"

He reached into my bag like it was his own and pulled out my driver's license, glanced at it momentarily and typed in my date of birth. "Didn't work."

"Month, day, year. American way of writing a date." He made a face at that, like America was the worst possible place to have come from.

"Yeah I'm not a fan either." I said and walked over to John's chair. "So. Why do you need three computers then?"

He didn't answer, typing furiously on one computer then flicking his eyes to the screen of another. Instead of sitting down I looked at the books near the fireplace. If he was going to be silent, I might as well read or something to pass the time.

A loud crash sounded from upstairs, suddenly three laptops all flew to the floor as Sherlock jumped up and started racing toward John's room. I was close behind him.

We both burst through the door, but nothing seemed out of place. John was lying in bed, sleeping, how was he still sleeping. Surely an ex-soldier would not sleep through a crash like that. I went over to check on him, while Sherlock went around the room to see what had made the sound.

As I inspected John I noticed he was covered in sweat and smelled of vomit. That explained the bin sitting next to the bed. I opened his bedside table and saw a bottle of sleeping pills lying empty in the drawer.

"Sherlock we have to get him to the hospital." I felt like I was going to scream. Why had he done this? Had it been my fault for revealing that Molly had known all along and never told him?

Sherlock pulled someone out of the closet, "And this one goes to Lestrade."

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**I'm super sorry guys, don't worry, he'll be fie...**


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry about that last chapter, leaving it as a cliffhanger like that, it was kind of mean of me... but here's the explanation and stuffs... Also this was originally going to be multiple chapters, but I felt a bit generous... Love you for just reading my stuff...**

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I called both an ambulance and the police station while Sherlock tied the young man he had found in a chair in the kitchen. When they arrived I left Sherlock and Lestrade to figure out what to do with the guy from the closet, and rode in the ambulance with John to the hospital.

When we arrived they took him to get his stomach pumped and I was stuck pacing the waiting room. All I could do was think.

Thought 1. What idiot gave a suicidal man sleeping pills.

Thought 2. Now that Sherlock is back, why is John still so depressed he would try to kill himself.

Thought 3. Where the hell is Sherlock? Lestrade had texted me saying they had taken the intruder to the station hours ago.

I sat down. I couldn't see straight at this point. I pulled out my phone to check the time, it was almost midnight. I didn't have Sherlock's number, so I called the flat. There was no answer. I texted Lestrade, maybe he knew where Sherlock had gone.

**Do you know where Sherlock is? -LW**

**He's not at the hospital with you?-GL**

**No. I figured this would be the first place he'd come after you had left.-LW**

**I could try to track him down for you.-GL**

**No that's alright, aren't you supposed to be off work by now anyway?-LW**

**Just got home, I'll call you in the morning.-GL**

I didn't bother to reply. A doctor was walking toward me and I lept out of the chair. "Is John alright?"

He beamed at me, "He'll be fine. Would you like to see him?"

"Yes, please. Though, you might want to stick with me so I don't slap him."

He chuckled, "I can do that. I take it this is a pattern?" He asked accusingly.

I decided not to tell him how John and I had met, "No, he just got a lot of information that he didn't want all at once, I'm sure that's all this was. He hasn't slept well in a while, I'm hoping he was just trying to sleep and not actually..." I didn't finish that sentence. I wouldn't dare. All the times John had called me his guardian angel, and I had let him down.

"I understand, but if it happens again, I highly recommend getting him help."

"He sees a psychiatrist, or used to, he's an ex-army doctor. I don't think she was ever very helpful though. His friends seem to have been the most help from what I've gathered, but apparently not enough."

"I'd prescribe him something, but I fear that wouldn't be wise."

"Yeah, let's not. I'll just have Mrs. Hudson make him calming tea or something." I said as we made it to John's room. He looked so pale and small. Why do people always look so small in hospital beds? I hated it. I hated myself in that instant. "What if this is my fault?" I didn't know I had said it out loud.

"It's not." Came Sherlock's voice behind me. The doctor and I turned around to look at him. "It's probably very much my fault."

I didn't say anything, the doctor started telling Sherlock everything the whole staff had already been made to tell me, and I just went over to John's bed and held his hand, hoping he'd wake up soon.

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I must have fallen asleep because I woke up across the room on a sofa, with a blanket that most definitely did not come from the hospital covering me, and Sherlock was in the chair staring at John. He didn't look like he was actually looking at him though. More like looking through him, thinking.

I sat up and looked around, noting that my bag was on the floor beside me, and my laptop was on the table along with a cup of coffee.

"Thank you." I said as I grabbed the cup, not knowing if he'd actually hear me, but he seemed to. He gave me a small, brief smile, and turned his attention back to John. "Any changes? Or has he slept the whole time?"

"He woke once. Asked me to move you, so I did. We sat and talked, turns out he didn't take the pills himself. Our friend from the closet had slipped it into one of the food containers hoping it would go to me, and came to the flat to conceal the evidence."

"Uhg. What is it with you guys and psychos trying to fake suicides?"

"So you've read the blog?"

"And your site. And no, I don't plan on telling you how much I love the hat, because I don't."

He sighed as if in relief, I smiled at him.

"I'm so glad he didn't do this to himself. I was so worried. Especially knowing he'd wanted to kill himself at one point." I turned away and grabbed my laptop. Obviously Sherlock had already been using it here, because I was already connected to the hospital's wifi. "Your brother e-mailed me. Does he not know what 'leave me the hell alone' means? Or am I going to have to punch him in the face too?"

"Would you?" He asked, as if I had just offered to bake him a giant chocolate cake and he was ten years old.

I laughed, "I think that would just piss him off and he'd never leave me alone."

I opened the e-mail and frowned, "Says we solved the case for him. What the hell?"

"Oh, yeah the guy who wanted to poison me was also a hacker. He may not have been very good at sneaking into a flat, or poisoning someone with sleeping pills, but he apparently had leaked some massive information to a terrorist cell."

"Hope it's nothing I've accumulated," I mumbled. I didn't bother replying to Mycroft, ignore him and he'll go away and all that. Instead I opened up my personal calender to switch around a few items to make room for all the work I'd have to do before joining Lestrade's team. But that had already been done. "Please tell me you were the one who changed my calender, and Mycroft hasn't touched my things."

"Yeah, I figured I'd go ahead and get you squared away, you seemed pretty tired." Why was the infamously cold Sherlock Holmes being so kind to me and doing me favors?

I shook my head, "Thanks."

"I also got a friend to encrypt everything more securely so my snooping brother could not get into your system without your permission, and your password has a secondary backup, it's you daughter's name."

I hadn't told him Jennet's name, but he had obviously had plenty of time to figure it out. "Mycroft would figure that out easily."

"Yes but you'd have to give him your laptop for him to get in with it, the computer itself can't be patched into without your phone and another computer if you want to reach your information from another location."

Whoever his guy was, he was good. "Let me guess, you went to my flat and had him do the same for my desktop?"

He just smiled and I shook my head again. "I'm so updating my security system when I get home."

"Done."

I sighed, "Did you actually leave me anything to do for myself?"

"Breakfast."

I made a face, we were in a hospital, and I was not leaving for food, nor was I getting the questionable food in the cafeteria. "So, no."

He was back to staring at John, so I sat and stared at him for a bit. But when it was obvious he was no longer interested in my conversation, I turned back to my laptop and started e-mailing my old informants to tell them of my job changes. Some that gave less important information I directed to other people on Mycroft's team. Those who gave the most important information, I let know they could still send me information and it would go to my former employer. Once I had finished John was waking up.

"Scoot." I told Sherlock.

He moved over to the sofa and picked up my laptop as I sat next to John and waited for him to become fully aware.

His eyes opened and a moment later he looked a bit panicked when he saw me and not Sherlock sitting in the chair. I nodded over to where Sherlock was sitting, typing furiously. John relaxed and I reached for his hand.

"I was really scared I had failed you John."

"You mean you thought I had tried to kill myself because you had given me information I didn't want to hear?"

I only nodded.

"Well I didn't."

"I know, Sherlock filled me in. I just wish I had actually checked on you before we heard the crash. You could have died and I wouldn't have known until I came back this morning and checked on you."

"You don't have to do that anymore you know." He said a bit sadly.

"Does it make you uncomfortable?"

"No, it just seems like a waste of your time."

I laughed, "For the past three months I have checked on you every day, it's become a part of my daily routine."

He smiled, "They're going to let me out as soon as I eat something, can you go get a nurse?"

I knew he wanted to talk to Sherlock some more, so I nodded and left the room, taking my time getting a nurse to go to John's room, asking her if I could get him some food from outside the hospital. She smiled and told me I could so I left.

I didn't go to another restaurant, not after last night's events. I instead went to the market and got a few steaks and took them back to my flat. Before walking in I texted Sherlock, who had programed his number into my phone.

**Before I set off my alarm and get the cops crawling all over my flat, did you change my pin?-LW**

**You have two now, first your original, then 6820.-SH**

**Thanks.-LW**

I put in the two codes, half expecting the alarm to go off anyway, but it didn't. Took the steaks to my kitchen and set about cooking them as quickly as I could.

Once finished I put them into some containers and took a cab back to the hospital.

When I got to John's room he was drinking coffee and smiling at Sherlock who was still on my laptop.

"Hello boys." I said passing out the steaks and the silverware I had brought with me. "Eat up."

"Oh you are an angel." John said with a smile.

I smiled back and sat in the chair to eat my own steak.

Sherlock ate all of his, to my surprise, and even gestured to mine once I had quit eating it, and finished it off too. John and I stared at him, mouths gaping.

"I was hungry." He said when he noticed us staring.

"Obviously." Said John.

I just smiled, "Like steak then?"

"Yes it was lovely."

The nurse came in then with discharge papers. Sherlock and I gathered up my things, sat John's clothes on the chair I had vacated, and walked out to the hallway so he could sign himself out and change.

"We should give murder's a layout of your flat so they don't break into John's room while trying to kill you." I said in a joking tone.

"All the smart one's already know which room is mine." He said a bit too seriously for my taste.

"And I already tried posting our photos on my blog, last time I got mistaken for Sherlock really was not that great." John added.

"I think you should get your guy over to the flat so Mrs. Hudson and yourselves will be safer." I nervously laughed. "And myself when I'm there," I added quietly.

I had a lot of information that a lot of people wanted. Most I got rid of after handing over to Mycroft, but some was memorized. I was always looking over my shoulder, metaphorically anyway. Mycroft would see to my safety for the most part, but he, and his team, couldn't be everywhere at once, so some places were not as safe as others. Sure, John and Sherlock's flat was one place where Mycroft would have eyes at all times, but that didn't mean I couldn't worry a bit. A lot had happened to the guys before Sherlock's little deception, some of which happened in or around the flat.

"How often do you show up at the flat?" Sherlock asked. I thought John would have told him.

"I come once every morning, and on days when I don't have a lot of work I stay over for a bit. Most days I also have dinner there. I've spent the night on a few occasions, but only when John had an especially bad day." I didn't mention that I had slept in Sherlock's room after the first time, I was sure he had already figured that out. John didn't know though, I sat in his room until he fell asleep and walked down the stairs to Sherlock's room, slept a few hours, and woke early to check on John again.

"My pillow smells like vanilla." He said not accusingly, just letting me know I was right, even though I knew I had cleaned his linens after the last time I had stayed over.

"Empty room and a tired girl with an upset friend." I shrugged.

The door to John's hospital room opened and Sherlock leaned to whisper in my ear.

"Thank you."

John cleared his throat, I don't know what he thought he was interrupting, he knew Sherlock better than anyone. The gesture may have looked intiment but it most certainly could not have been. Could it? I shook my head and hooked my arm around his. "Come on you. Time to go home."

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**Hope that made up for the last chapter...**


	6. Chapter 6

**This one I am not sure anyone will like, I was just kind of writing what I was thinking, and didn't know how to improve it, feel free to give any advice and I will try to fix it.**

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Two minutes after Midnight on New Years Day, John, Mrs. Watson, and I were staring at Sherlock in confusion. The past few days he had been acting strange, John had told me plenty about him, so I had not expected all the mixed signals I had recieved. But on this particular night, right when the countdown to the new year hit one, Sherlock had kissed me. John had told me he would talk to him the day before, but I knew he hadn't had the chance yet. They had been on a murder case, they had just wrapped up before coming home to find Mrs. Hudson and I doing a bit of housekeeping. Sherlock had grabbed and spun Mrs. Hudson in a hug before bounding toward me. He had produced a small box from his pocket, sheepishly explaining it was a thank you gift for taking care of John, also making sure John hadn't heard him. It was a little heart locket charm. I had opened it up and it hadn't held a picture, but a little, expertly folded piece of paper. When I opened it, it was sheet music, I figured I'd play it out on my guitar or piano when I got back to my flat.

He was blushing. I doubted that had ever happened. I wiped the look of confusion off of my face and smiled at him warmly. I didn't want to take things too far, not knowing what to expect. I figured I'd let John have his conversation with him first. We had only known each other a week. I had grown to forgive and even like Sherlock in that time, but I didn't know if I was quite ready for anything else.

No one really said anything for the rest of the night. Mrs. Hudson murmered something about being tired and went downstairs, John sat in his chair in front of the fire, and Sherlock played his violin. I went about gathering our Champagne flutes and cleaning them before putting them up high in the cabinets so I would, hopefully, never find Sherlock placing any body parts into them. He liked using things easily accessed. Once I had finished that I walked back into the living room to find the two men standing next to the window whispering to each other.

I cleared my throat, "Everything's put away, do you two want some tea, or are you about ready for me to get out of your hair?" I didn't want to just leave and look like I was running away.

Sherlock didn't turn to look at me, but John did.

He smiled, "You know I love your company, but it is quite late, if you stay any longer you'll never get home safely."

"Alright, I'll stop by around noon." I told him, he looked surprised that I wouldn't be coming straight to the flat, but didn't argue. It was about time I broke the routine, even if I took my time with it. He really didn't need me anymore. I gave him his usual hug and kiss on the cheek, then I turned to Sherlock, who was still looking out the window.

I turned him to look at me, and gave him a hug, whispering a quick thank you in his ear. For the charm, or the kiss I didn't even know. I did know I had a lot of thinking to do.

I knew I would never get a cab, too many drunk people needing them, so I started walking to my own flat. I was about half way there when someone stopped me, holding a gun to my back. Luckily I still had a panic button from when I worked with Mycroft, I dealt with some heavy information, he wanted me safe, and when I tried to return it, it had ended up back in my flat the next day. So as I went to turn around I slowly reached my hand into my coat pocket, hoping the idiot with the gun to my back was actually an idiot. I didn't have a chance to press the button though, the hand holding the gun suddenly had a bullet through it.

I looked around and then up, the sniper on the roof across the street saluted me and put a phone to his ear. I pulled out a pair of handcuffs and put them on the man's uninjured arm and a near by shop window that had bars on it. I grabbed his gun, and sat down on the curb, knowing either Mycroft or Lestrade would show up any minute to debrief me and take the man away. This had happened twice before, once John had been with me, his own gun in hand. I'm surprised Lestrade hadn't taken it away when Sherlock had left, and I had said as much to Greg. He just said John needed it to feel safe and we had left it alone for the time being.

My phone buzzed.

**Terrorist or thug?-MH**

**Oh yes, I'm perfectly fine. Just a minute and I'll let you know.-LW**

I checked the pockets of the man who was still whimpering a bit, that in itself told me thug, but I grabbed his ID anyway and looked up his name. I texted Mycroft back with the information.

**Jake Taylor, 24, known gang banger. First time trying to do a simple mugging, first time bothering with a gun as well. Usually uses his fists to get the point across.-LW**

**I'll send Lestrade then, not our department.-MH**

**Tell him the idiot needs a bit of medical attention, and I don't think he was just after my purse.-LW**

I had just found a photo of myself in the thug's wallet. Not a photo I had posed for, but a picture that had been taken while I had walked John out of the hospital with Sherlock a week ago. I snapped a picture of it and sent it to Mycroft.

**I'm coming.-MH**

I forwarded it to John and Sherlock as well telling them what happened.

**Where are you? We're on our way.-JW**

I texted him my location and everyone seemed to show up at once. Mycroft and Lestrade walked straight over to the thug after I showed them I had not been injured, I handed the gun to Sally, and when John got to me he started moving my limbs and pivotting me around, as though he didn't trust that I had not in fact been injured. He stopped when he saw I was telling the truth. The only blood on me was from the hand of the man who had held a gun to me. Sherlock hung back a bit, he looked a bit hurt, but I couldn't begin to figure out why. John when over to look at the man who had attacked me, seeing as Mycroft had, purposely I'm sure, forgotten to call an ambulance as well. But John didn't bother looking over his hand.

"I'm not a police officer, so I can punch him right?"

I laughed, "John don't. He's not worth it. Let Mycroft and Greg take him wherever it is Mycroft takes these losers, and you and Sherlock can walk me the rest of the way to my flat."

When we got to my flat Sherlock and John insisted on going in first, so I stood out on the curb holding my panic button just in case. I couldn't wait to get issued a gun.

John came back to the door and told me it was all clear, so I walked inside. Sherlock was laid out on my couch reading one of my mom's old novels. We left him to it and walked to my kitchen.

"I'm assuming you spoke to him?"

"Yes. He has apparently been watching you since you came into my life, and as he's gotten to know you he's come to 'admire' you, or so he says. You never know if something is an experiment with him."

"Is that what you told him to make him look like someone just kicked a puppy?"

"May have been." John looked a bit guilty. "But I won't have him turning you into an experiment, there's a line that I refuse to let him cross."

"But if he's genuinely interested?" I surprised myself with the question. Was I actually concidering a relationship with Sherlock Holmes?

"Are you genuinely interested Lia?" John asked, surprise and confusion all over his face.

"I don't have a clue, I haven't had a relationship in five years."

"He hasn't had a relationship ever."

"Your books are rubbish." Sherlock said entering the room.

"My mom's books are rubbish, I leave them out for guests, my books are on a shelf in my room."

He left and came back with The Hobbit in hand. Not the one I had expected him to grab, but a good read none-the-less. He pulled out the bookmark I had placed back in the front of the book after I had read it the last time.

"You draw this?" He asked and I nodded. "Sketch it from Bilbo's description?"

"Yeah, I was the only sketch artist on the force back home, along with being a homocide detective, but I started with character's from books. Each of my books has it's own bookmark. You can have that one, I have a few copies of The Hobbit." I started making tea, "Are you two going back home or staying in the spare room and the fold out couch?"

"Staying." John and Sherlock both said at once.

"Well glad we got that cleared up." I added the extra water to the kettle. "There's a pie in the fridge if either of you are hungry."

They both sat down with a slice of pie and started eating as I poured us all some tea.

"How often do you almost get mugged Lia?" Sherlock asked.

"Almost mugged? Never. Almost kidnapped and tortured for information I've given your brother, less often since he's upped my security."

"They ever been successful?"

"Kidnapping and torturing, once. Getting information, never." I smiled weakly at the memory.

Sherlock got up and left the room. John and I exchanged a look of confusion until we heard drawers opening and closing down the hall.

We both got up and followed the noise. Sherlock was packing a suitcase he had found in my closet.

"Um, what on Earth do you think you're doing?" I asked Sherlock.

"You're moving to our flat."

I sighed, "John's already tried this." I put a hand on his arm as he started to open my underwear drawer. "Calm down. I'll be fine here."

"Single woman, alone in a flat, too far away for her few friends in the area to make it to her quickly if anything happens. You are moving into our flat, or the flat in the basement if you want to have some distance, either way you're not staying here."

I sighed again and let go of his arm, he opened the drawer and froze momentarily. John tried to hide a laugh by turning it into a cough, he had the same face when he'd opened that drawer. Lace everything and all matching. I almost laughed too when Sherlock picked up a pair of bright red panties and stared at them quizzically. Instead I started unpacking the suitcase. But as fast as I unpacked, he was repacking it faster. Eventually I gave up.

"We'll have to wait until tomorrow so we can get a cab." I said hoping to stop him for the moment.

"I can get a cab tonight." Was all he said as he kept packing.

"And where are we going to put my things when you decide to fully move me into the flat?" I asked still hoping to deter him.

"My room."

John's jaw dropped, I just stared.

He managed to get every scrap of clothing I owned into the one suitcase, where it had taken me four to move to London. He even got my three extra pair of shoes in as well. He picked up another suitcase and started packing my books away, I turned to John and grabbed his arm walking him into the living room.

"The man you described to me over the past three and a half months is not the man currently packing me up to move into your flat." I said accusingly.

"That is most definitely not the man I described to you three and a half months ago. I don't know what the hell happened to him the three years he was gone, but he's freaking me out. He acted like his old self while we worked the case with Lestrade, but other than that..." He trailed off.

"I'm going to go pack up my personal items in the bathroom, so Sherlock doesn't have a heart attack when he tries." I said, needing a few minutes to think.

It was a few minutes before I started packing everything I had in my bathroom into an overnight bag, thinking about everything that had happened today already. When I finally came back out, bag in hand, all four of my suitcases were sitting infront of the door, along with two that I knew didn't belong to me. Anything small enough to fit into one of those suitcases was gone from it's place in my flat. I guessed John had started helping Sherlock when I had left him alone.

I found them in my kitchen placing the best of my dishes into a box.

"I have a connection at a storage unit, if you want to keep any of the things we can't fit into our flat." Sherlock said without even looking at me.

"You know, almost nothing I have is of any sentimental value to me, all I really need is my computers, books, and clothes. I'll miss my piano, but I'm not going to change your flat, I like it just the way it is."

Sherlock gave me a look that said he read between the lines, I wasn't staying long enough for things to change.

We got two cabs back to their flat, I don't know how Sherlock managed it, with all the drunk people calling cabs on New Years, or maybe there were less in England, I had only been here six months after all. John rode in the first cab and Sherlock and I took the second, I tried to start a conversation many times but I didn't really know what to say. Obviously Sherlock either didn't want to talk or he didn't know what to say either. So we rode in silence for the few minutes it took to get to to the flat.

After we carried all of my things in, and Sherlock placed most of them in his room, clearing out drawers for my clothes, and hanging certain items in his closet, I went into the kitchen and sat down to text Mycroft.

**Thank you for still watching my back, even though I've been less than kind about parting ways with you.-LW**

**You may not have given up information last time you were tortured Ms. Williams, but I don't want to chance you breaking.-MH**

**Your concern for my wellbeing is touching Mycroft. Glad to know where your priorities are. I've changed my mind about trying to be nice. Bye.-LW**

He texted back, but I didn't bother reading it. I went to grab a spare blanket from the linen closet. It was 3 in the morning now. I had done most of the testing Lestrade had needed me to, and filled out most of the forms. Tomorrow, I was going to meet him at the shooting range so he could test my accuricy with a gun. Today I was going to sleep.

I took the blanket to the living room, planning on sleeping on the couch, but Sherlock was already there, curled up in what John had described as one of his pouting posistions.

"You alright Sherlock?"

He turned over to look at me, "Fine. That for me?" He asked looking at the blanket.

"No, it's for me, go to your bed." I said aproaching the couch and scooting his feet off to sit down.

He propped his feet on top of my legs, "I'd rather sleep here."

I sighed, John had told me he was stubborn. I'd sleep in his bed tonight, but I'd make sure I made it to the couch first from now on. I moved his feet again and stood up. I placed the blanket over him, and kissed his forehead without thinking. It was so normal for me when my daughter had been alive and I would tuck her into bed. It took me a moment to realize what I had just done and I straightened up slowly.

When Sherlock didn't say anything I muttered a quick, "Good night." And went to his bedroom.

I looked through everything, memorizing where he had placed my things, so I would know where to look when I needed them. I grabbed my overnight bag and walked to the bathroom. I sat it next to the sink and took out my toothbrush and toothpaste. After using them, I cleaned my face, returned my items to my bag, and set it on the floor out of the way. I grabbed my most modest pajamas and put them on, then went out to the kitchen to get a glass of water.

When I arrived in the kitchen, Sherlock handed me a cup of tea.

"I thought you were going to sleep," I said accusingly.

"Nope." He grinned, "Just making sure you don't try to sleep on the couch."

"I could go sleep on the couch right now."

"But you won't."

"Why's that?"

"Because I'm not going to sleep any time soon and my bed is far more comfortable than the couch. And even if I did get tired, you probably don't sleep past 7 in the morning unless you're too ill to move."

Well he was right about that, I normally didn't, but there was now less than three and a half hours until seven, and I was too exhausted to even think about it. I didn't have anything to do today. But I still wanted to wake up so I could sleep tonight.

"If I'm not awake when you want to go to bed, wake me up." I said before drinking the tea he had made. I sat the cup down, "Don't ever attempt to make tea again... I thought it was in the blood of everyone in Britain to make tea properly." I joked. I gave him a small half-hug, before walking back to his room and falling asleep the minute my head hit the pillow.

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**Yeah not my best work.**


	7. Chapter 7

**This chapter is a bit better than the previous one... Lia confronts Sally, but she doesn't hit her this time... But consider Sally fairly warned.**

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Three hours later I woke, still tired, but with enough energy to go about the day. I made the bed, but I didn't bother changing, my pajamas would suit me just fine for the day, as I had nothing to do until tomorrow.

I went to the kitchen and Sherlock was studying what looked like a human liver.

"Er... Is that human or pig?" I asked, wanting to confirm what I was looking at.

"Good you're not disturbed by my experiments." He said with a yawn. "Human."

"Thought as much. You should get some sleep, I'll wake you if one of your cases come in." I went about making coffee, and Sherlock put the liver in the fridge without another word and headed to his room.

I checked the living room for John, but when he wasn't there I went to his room to check on him. He wasn't covered in sweat like he had been so many times in the months I had known him, he was sleeping soundly. So I left him to it.

I made my way back down the stairs and grabbed my laptop and a cup of coffee as it finished brewing. I had left my phone on the coffee table the night before, Mycroft had texted me a few more times, but I ignored the messages. I checked my e-mail as was my normal routine once I had checked on John. I had three new items in my inbox. One was from Mycroft, I didn't bother opening it. Two were from my informants, I opened them one at a time. The first was merely an update on some Chinese information I had requested a month before, nothing too substantial, it could wait. The other was from Russia. Apparently 3 British soldiers who had been concidered MIA were actually being held in a Russian prison for unknown charges. I forwarded it to Mycroft's secretary, let them figure it out. I e-mailed my informant back thanking him for the information, and closed my laptop.

John came down the stairs as I finished and I lifted my cup pointing it in the direction of the kitchen. I heard him sigh exasperatedly when he opened the fridge, but he made no actual word of complaint.

"Did you actually get him to go to bed?" He asked when he came back in.

"Didn't really take much, he must have been very tired."

"Or he just doesn't want to disappoint you."

I rolled my eyes, "Well, whatever the case may be, he's in bed now."

"Yes, that's good." He looked down at his phone, "Why is Mycroft texting me about you?"

"Because I won't speak to him."

"I thought Sherlock and I were the ones not talking about him."

I snorted out a short laugh, "Well he's an ass, I'm not in the mood to deal with his detached comments having to do with my safety."

"Well he's apologized to me about his behavior toward you, I don't know exactly what that means, but with Mycroft I can guess."

"He told me that he kept me safe because, though I kept my mouth shut last time I was tortured, I could break the next."

John winced, "The Holmes Brothers are not that great at sentiment, sorry."

"When I was getting dinner for us, sorry about the jackass poisoning you by the way, he stopped by and was rather polite, even paid for our meal. But now he's back to his cold distant self."

"Let's change the subject shall we? How about your plans for tomorrow? Going to the shooting range with Lestrade yeah?"

"Yeah, I can't wait to get back to working on a police force. I only switched because the money in information gathering was much better and I had a sick child to care for. Mycroft paid off all my debts when I moved here, so I would have no more ties to America, so now I just don't care about the money."

"So completely done with the information business then?"

I blushed a bit, I had gotten rather attached to gathering information that no one else would, or in some cases could, I had kept a few of my informants for just that reason. "Eh, not completely, no. I have a few more informants who are too important to just pass off to someone else. I'm completely done with dealing with Mycroft directly though. He's texted and e-mailed me already today and I haven't even bothered to read them."

"Sherlock ignored him even before he had faked his own death."

"I can see why."

"You two are becoming more alike that I first thought you would be." John said eying me curiously.

"Good thing or bad thing?"

"As long as you don't start acting like a smart ass, it'll be a good thing."

I laughed, I knew I had an above average IQ, but not nearly a genius one. I also didn't like putting people under a microscope, governments yes, individuals, not so much. I think people should have some privacy, even if you can tell things about them they did not want you to know. Sherlock did not share my point of view on that subject.

We sat in comfortable silence for a few hours, John typing on his blog, me sketching a new bookmark for the copy of The Hobbit that Sherlock had taken the previous bookmark from. Once I had finished that I started sketching John at his laptop. Maybe I'd give it to his next girlfriend, surely he would have one soon now that Sherlock was back and he wasn't suffering from crippling depression.

I was putting on the finishing touches when a half naked Sherlock came walking into the living room. He sat in his chair and started playing his violin. I had never heard the tune before, so I assumed he had composed it himself at some point.

Finishing my sketch of John, I decided now would be a perfect time to sketch Sherlock. The three months before he had reappeared in John's life I had wanted to give him a sketch of Sherlock, but somehow it had never come out just right. Even when I looked at photos and tried to capture his likeness, but now he was doing something he loved, and it seemed like the perfect time. Though John wouldn't really need the sketch now, I wanted to do it anyway. Maybe I would keep it for myself.

I went to it, when I was almost finished Sherlock set his violin down. I figured he had already deduced what I had been doing, so I finished the sketch without a word. From the angle he was sitting from me, you could never tell he had even a scrap of clothing on, and the sketch showed as much. When my pencil stopped moving, he got up and walked over to the couch where I was sitting and plopped down next to me.

I cleared my throat a bit nervously, and turned the sketch to show him. He didn't smile, he didn't say a word. He simply nodded and took the sketch pad from my hands.

As he flipped through the pages he made sounds of approval and sounds of indifference. Some of my sketches had been of descriptions I had received from informants, to show Mycroft who he was looking for. I didn't have two separate pads for work and pleasure, I just used the one, and I never threw a sketch away. Gifted them to others, yes. Trashing a perfectly good sketch, no.

He reached the one of John on his laptop and smiled a bit to himself. I had planned to give it to John's next girlfriend, but his relationships never really lasted long. The most constant thing in his life was Sherlock, and probably always would be.

I gently took the sketch pad back from Sherlock, neatly tore the page out, and handed it to him. His smile widened a bit and he took the sketch to his room.

When he came back he was dressed, and the sketch was nowhere in sight, must have put it away then. His phone suddenly beeped.

"Want to start work a day early Lia?" He asked a bit excitedly.

"You have a case?" I asked, and John looked up from his typing.

"Murder?" He asked.

"Looks like a murder-suicide, but they can't see how it could have been done."

"Guess that's where you come in."

"Let's go then before Anderson tries to take everything away so you can't see the crime scene."

He had tried that with their last case, Lestrade had reprimanded him for it, but there wasn't much to be done at that point.

I quickly went to Sherlock's room to change into jeans and a sweater, came back out and grabbed my coat and scarf, and sketch pad, so we could leave.

"Well come on then." I said, and they both stared at me while pulling on their shoes.

John cleared his throat, "You get ready rather quickly."

"I worked for Mycroft, punctuality was everything." I said cooly.

"Ah, yes. I can see that it would be."

"Right, yes. Let's get to it then." Sherlock said with a hint of distaste in his voice, probably at the reminder that I had worked for his brother.

The job had chosen me, not the other way around. I didn't know Mycroft was such an ass when I started, he was proper and a bit posh. But he's British and I'm from the middle of nowhere, how was I to know he wasn't just a normal British man. I had always thought that England had higher standards than America, when it came to everything really. And I had been right for the most part. Most countries did have higher standards than America, no matter how much America prided itself in itself, that wouldn't change any time soon.

We left the flat and got a cab to the crime scene, John and I started to talk but Sherlock glared at us and we sat back in silence. I studied them both closely from my seat across from them. John stared out the window, seemingly deep in thought, watching the city go by. Sherlock had started the ride doing the same, but he was studying me now, as closely as I was studying the two of them. I tried not to shift in my seat.

Luckily, we made it to the scene quickly. Sherlock and John went straight to the room the two victims were in, and I hung back, knowing better than to have anything to do with a police investigation until I was on the force. I sat myself down outside the house, and opened my sketch pad. I was flipping through the pages, and got to the sketch I had done of Sherlock, when Sally walked up behind me.

"Got a thing for the freak then, eh?"

"Better than having a thing for married men I should think." I said not denying her claim.

She shut her mouth quickly and just glared at me. When Anderson came up I sneered, "Speak of the devil." And Sally's face distorted in anger.

Sherlock walked out of the house at that moment, looking like he was about to hail another cab but stopped when he saw the way Sally was looking at me.

"She's got a nice right hook Donovan, I wouldn't say whatever is about to pass through that stupid mouth of yours."

"He knows from experience." John said proudly coming out of the house himself now.

I smiled at them both and got up, "Sally here was just using her horrid nickname for Sherlock, and prying into my private life. So I reminded her of her place in society. Home-wreckers don't live happy, fulfilling lives Sally dear." I said sweetly as Sherlock, John, and I started walking toward the street, I paused for a moment, "Oh and, if you ever call my friend a _freak_ again, I'll give you a free demonstration of that right hook Sherlock just warned out about. Just because someone's IQ dwarfs yours, does not make them a freak, it just makes them more intelligent than you. Did you ever stop to think, that maybe if you showed a bit of kindness toward the man who helps you do _your _job, he might not say everything he deduces about you out loud? Think on it._"_

Her jaw dropped and we walked away, John laughing quietly, and Sherlock smiling proudly.

We got into another cab, and headed home.

"That was brilliant." John said, a bit too excitedly.

"Well she should mind her own business, and quit calling people names. It's childish and rude."

Sherlock was silent, though not in his normal moody way. He was still looking at me as though I had just done something impossibly wonderful, but he didn't comment on it.

"So who did it?" I asked.

"The maid who supposedly found the bodies." Sherlock said indifferently.

"That was quick work," I said.

"It was very obvious."

"I still don't see it." Said John.

"The husband caught her going through his wife's jewelry box, so she shot him in the head. She was in the process of moving the body when the wife came in, and used the husband's hand to fire the gun at the wife. There are still powder burns all over her apron, which she had haphazardly tossed in a laundry basket, and her hands are red and smell heavily of soap and disinfectant."

"John was right, you are amazing."

Sherlock just smiled sheepishly and looked out the window.

My phone buzzed and I pulled it out of my pocket, "I'd change my number, but he'd figure it out. What is with your brother?"

Sherlock took the phone from me and frowned, "He really does need to learn to back off."

He started typing away and handed my phone back to me, all but the message he sent gone from my phone. I read what he had written.

**The lady obviously wants nothing to do with you dear brother, you should really learn to read women. I thought I was supposed to be the Virgin, while you were merely the Ice Man. -SH**

I laughed half-heartedly, John had told me about what Sherlock had said about to Irene Adler describing Moriarty's nicknames for the Holmes brothers.

"Thanks Sherlock." I said as I put my phone away. Then Sherlock's text tone went off and he rolled his eyes, but didn't bother looking at it.

We got back to the flat and John went to take a shower.

Sherlock started heading toward the kitchen, probably to work on an experiment, but I stopped him.

"I think we need to talk," I said nervously. Those words always sounded horrible to my ears, I didn't even know what I wanted to say.

"Yes, I know." He said as we walked back toward the couch.

"I don't know you as well as I would like to, yet I actually care about you almost as much as I care about John." I paused to see if he would say anything. When he didn't I continued. "And while John and I have taken the prospect of a relationship between the two of us off the table, I don't think I would mind one with you." I paused again to look for the right words as to not sound too accusing. "But, if it were to come to that, I would like to be one hundred percent sure of what you wanted. If you were just in the mood for experimentation, we would have to discuss that before hand, so that I didn't get hurt when the experiment ended."

"And if I didn't want it to be just an experiment?" He said nervously, and I remembered more of what John had told me about Irene. I was already surprised she hadn't poisoned him against women all together.

"Then we could discuss that as well." I said slightly relieved.

John came from the shower at that moment with a towel around his shoulders, and walked over to his computer.

"You blog about the simple ones too?" I asked.

"He blogs about everything we do, it gets quite annoying at times."

John just ignored us and started typing. Sherlock went to look over his shoulder.

"The Manic Maid? How does that even make sense?"

"Add any more types of tobacco ash to your site Sherlock?" John asked smugly.

"Play nice boys." I said as Mrs. Hudson came in the door.

"Mycroft is at the door." She said a bit nervously, looking at each of us in turn.

"Did he say whom he wanted to speak to Mrs. Hudson?" I asked, hoping it was not me.

"All three of you." She said.

We all sighed. We'd have to deal with him at some point, at least here we had a choice in the matter.

"Send him up," I said, getting glares from both the men in the room. "What? He's here, he'll keep trying, if we let him up now and hear what he has to say, maybe he'll go the hell away."

Sherlock rolled his eyes, and John sighed a second time.

Mycroft walked in and sat in John's chair by the fire, without a word to any of us.

"Yeah, sure, make yourself at home." I said sarcastically.

Sherlock and John came and sat on either side of me on the couch, obviously no one wanted to be too close to Mycroft. It was my turn to roll my eyes.

Mrs. Hudson brought up tea, sat it in front of the couch and took a cup over to Mycroft. Leaving again without a word.

Mycroft turned to look at us, "I do not appreciate being ignored." He said cooly.

"We do not appreciate being used, lie to, manipulated, or sold out." I said trying to get all his crimes into one sentence, knowing I missed one or two.

"What she said," John mumbled.

Sherlock just sat glaring at his brother. He had read my texts, and probably the e-mail I had never opened.

"Yes, well. When one holds a small possition-"

I interrupted him, "Stuff it. You don't hold a small anything, even your head is too big for your own good. I may have been your employee, but these two are people you should care about. Your brother, and his best friend, who by the way, has tried on many occasions to mend the rift between you two. He may have given up for the time being, but if you would give them the time to cool off, maybe he would try again at some point."

John snorted and I elbowed him. Mycroft just looked at me as though I grew another head while speaking. But all three knew I was right.

"Now, as all I have ever been to you is an employee, I'm going to go clean the kitchen." I knew it didn't need it, but I didn't want to hear whatever Mycroft wanted to say to me. "Apologize to your brother, and John as well. Then I sugest you leave before you make an even bigger ass of yourself."

I left the room and started messing about in the kitchen. I put away a few things that had been sitting out to dry, and Mycroft came in after a few minutes.

"I wanted to apologize to you as well Ms. Williams." He said, and I snorted a laugh.

"No need," I said, "You were just being honest. How would you know if I broke under interigation the next time I was kidnapped? That's all that I've ever done that has any merrit to you, gathering information. Did you get a team to those POWs?"

"Yes I did. And you're wrong. You are a strong woman, I doubt anyone could do worse to you than what was being done the last time I found you. You have become important to my brother, therefore you are important to me."

"Save it. I care about Sherlock and John, but you have no morals, or if you do you ignore them completely. You sold out your own brother, forced him to fake his own death, destroying his best friend, and have done nothing to make up for it. Sure you worked at tearing apart Moriatry's organizations, and you made sure to clean up most of the mess you had made. But your actions shattered an already half broken man. You are so lucky I was correct in thinking Sherlock was still alive, because if he were actually dead, and John ever did kill himself when I wasn't around, that would be on your continence. If you even have one." I walked away, leaving him to stand in the kitchen thinking about my words. I ran into Sherlock and John just outside the kitchen.

I raised an eyebrow, "Curious about our conversation boys?" I grabbed my coat and scarf and headed toward the door. "I'm going for coffee, either of you want to join me?"

The both grabbed their coats and followed me. We left Mycroft in the flat, hoping he'd leave before we got back.

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**Reviews are always appreciated...**


	8. Chapter 8

**Irene is back, Lia is not happy about this... At all.**

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We drank our coffee in silence for some moments until Sherlock and I realized John was looking back and forth between the two of us as if he expected something. I sighed, but Sherlock spoke first.

"Yes, we've talked."

"No, we haven't decided anything."

"Yes, we're going to speak about it again."

"Nothing new to share at this point in time."

John sat back and smiled smugly, "I think I just heard everything I needed to know."

Sherlock and I looked at each other in confusion for a moment, but just shrugged. Suddenly my phone chirped and I looked down at it. I didn't recognize the number, but the little initials at the end of the message gave me a good guess.

**Be good to him.-IA**

"Er... John..." I handed him my phone and his eyes went wide.

"But I..." He trailed off.

"Yeah, I know what you told me, I also know what Mycroft told you. So..." We both looked at Sherlock.

"What?" He actually looked confused, well he probably really had no idea who had just texted me as he hadn't seen my phone just yet. John handed it over to him and his face scrunched up in a mix of anger and distaste. "She's supposed to be hiding, if she knows about you she's in London again. Idiot."

John and I cleared our throats, and he just stared at us again. I took my phone from his hand, not sure why I felt so pained by this discovery. And grabbed my coat off the back of my chair and readied myself to leave. John was up in a flash, but he just looked between myself and Sherlock, not sure whether he should stay and yell at his friend or come with me and try to provide comfort.

"Stay." I said making the choice for him, "I just need some air, hand me your gun."

He looked as though he was afraid I would shoot Sherlock, but handed it to me anyway. I tucked it into my waistband.

"Mycroft's men won't be able to follow me tonight, I'm going for a walk, I'll be back at the flat tomorrow evening. Text Lestrade in the morning if you're worried and he'll confirm I'm at the shooting range with him."

"But where will you be tonight?" John asked worried.

"Don't know yet." I lied, and tossed him my phone. "Get rid of that would you."

I left, walking aimlessly, yet knowing I was losing more of my security every time I turned down a darkened ally. I thought about stopping to get a new phone, but I didn't need one just yet. Aside from all my thinking, my evening was uneventful. I knew I was being stupid, I knew I was overreacting. I wasn't dating Sherlock, why the hell should I care if The Woman was still alive and well. And had my damned phone number.

By the time I finished my walk, I looked up and around, the sun was coming up, and more of Mycroft's men had finally found me. Which should have been easy, I was heading to the range, even if earlier than planned.

I sat on a bench outside, and waited. A man came up to me with a cup of coffee, I recognized him immediately as one of the snipers who watched my back from 7 at night to 3 in the morning. "Thanks Rog. Shouldn't you be home by now?" I looked at my watch, as if to prove my point.

"Well we lost you a few times so I stayed on duty until you were spotted again, then figured you could use a cup of coffee."

I smiled at him, but he frowned at me. "Why did you give John Watson your phone? And why did you deliberately put yourself in danger?"

I pulled out John's gun and sat it beside me on the bench, "I wasn't in any danger. And as for the phone, I'm getting a new one, don't know when yet, don't really care. Just got a text I didn't really care for. I'd tell you who from, but you'd tell your boss and he'd get all pissy and be in everyone's business. More-so than he currently is."

Greg Lestrade walked up just then, confused look on his face, "John texted me and told me you were running about without your phone. And you had a gun for protection, but no way to get in touch if something happened. Yet you're here early. And with someone."

"Sniper on Mycroft's payroll, brought me coffee once they caught back up to me. I got sick of walking, so I came here."

Lestrade rolled his eyes, "Here, new number, all your contacts transferred, and no new texts thus far." He handed me a new phone. A new smart phone.

"Er... Who bought this?" I asked taking it from him.

"Sherlock." He said a bit proudly. Like he had personally groomed Sherlock to be a gentleman or some such crap.

"Thanks for bringing it. Sniper's name is Roger Blight by the way, Rog, this is DI Greg Lestrade." Finding my manners.

Roger held out his hand, "Nice to meet you, gonna be the lady's new boss then?"

Lestrade shook his hand and nodded, "Nice to meet you too, yes, it would appear that way. Though if she runs off like this often we won't be able to keep her on." He smirked at me and I stuck my tongue out at him like a five year old. "I don't suppose she'll be free of your team anytime soon?" He asked Roger hopefully.

"No, even as a police officer she will need our protection."

I sighed, "No I won't, next time I'm about to be kidnapped how about I just shoot the asshole and run?"

Lestrade laughed at that, and Roger shook his head, "Ms. Williams, your safety is vital."

"So I'm going to be the cop with babysitters? That seems logical. How about you tell Mycroft to back off? I've already proven I can lose you guys easily, and I was barely trying or you'd have lost me long before. So save yourselves the trouble." I got up, grabbing John's gun off the bench, and started walking into the building behind us.

Lestrade said his good byes to Roger, and followed me in. They were open, they were always open. Police officers liked to come here to think in the middle of the night apparently. We went back to the targets, and I donned the goggles and opted for the earplugs. Lestrade did the same next to me and stood back a few paces watching the target. I raised the gun and took aim. Once I had made three shots in the area of the heart, I shot three in the head, the last three I shot into the left leg, making sure every shot was fatal. Lestrade smiled then frowned. We took out our earplugs.

"You know if you pull another stunt like the one you've just pulled you'll have to go to a psychiatrist for evaluation before actually being allowed on a case?" He asked.

"It won't happen again," I said determined. "I won't put myself into a position to get that angry again."

He snorted a laugh, "John told me who texted you."

I took off the goggles and set them down, "Yes well, dead people shouldn't piss us off so easily, but I'm sure John could tell you they are quite good at it."

"Yeah I remember the first case they had back John singing your praises for clocking Sherlock."

"Might happen again." I said as I started to walk back to the front of the building. "I'm going to have to buy John some new ammo."

Luckily the attendant also sold ammunition so I paid and turned back to Lestrade. "So am I part of the team now? Sally won't be happy."

He chuckled, "If you ever do punch her, warn me first so I can film it."

I smiled at that, "I'm not expected back to the flat until this evening, do I need to come down to the station to get my badge and my own gun?" I asked placing John's into the bag with the ammo.

"Yes, but not until later, and you won't be on duty until next Monday." I sighed, and he smiled at me, "Don't worry, we'll keep you busy enough once you've started."

I didn't want to go to 221B just yet, but it didn't look like I had a choice. I was feeling tired, and I hadn't slept properly in a couple days. So I started the walk back, I glance up at a the rooftops, fewer men were up there, but they were still there. I rolled my eyes and kept walking.

Once I got back to the flat John and Sherlock both jumped up from their chairs.

"Where the bloody hell have you been? Lestrade texted to tell me you were alright, why haven't you used your new phone?" John continued spouting questions and Sherlock sat back down slowly, never taking his eyes off me. I held up a hand to stop John talking.

"I was walking around London, now I'm going to sleep." I handed him the bag which held his gun and ammo and turned to lie down on the couch. There was no way I was sleeping in Sherlock's room after getting a text from Irene Adler the night before. I was asleep before I knew it.

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**Yeah I think I over wrote her reaction to Irene, but my main train of thought was "Sherlock lied and helped this woman out after everything she put him through, and then suddenly she's back and texting Lia, so maybe we should throw a tantrum" **


	9. Chapter 9

**Very short chapter, explaining Lia's anger in the previous chapter, next one will come soon.**

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I woke up feeling a bit stupid. How would Sherlock have known Irene would text me? That didn't excuse the fact that he had been hiding the one woman who had actually gotten under his skin from John, and well now me I guess. We hadn't had time to actually talk about what kind of relationship we were going to have, but I knew I wanted it to have nothing to do with Irene Adler.

I looked around the room, I was alone. My new badge and gun were sitting on the coffee table. I didn't bother looking at the time, I knew it was well after midnight.

As I sat up I heard heated voices coming from the kitchen, so I got up and walked in that direction.

"How could you be so stupid?" John was trying his hardest not to scream at the man.

"I think I've proven many times over that I am in fact not stupid." Sherlock said a bit sarcasticlly.

Neither had noticed me yet, so I voiced my opinion, "You're both a bit stupid."

They turned to look at me, Sherlock looked a bit like he wanted to glare, but didn't.

"You," I turned to John, "Spent three years trying to decide the best way to commit suicide instead of just moving on with your life. And you," I turned on Sherlock, "You saved a woman who betrayed you. Why? Because she had fallen in love with you at some point. You risked your own life in the process, and you lied to your best friend. Who," I turned back to John, "Lied about where she was meant to have been." I shoved through them and grabbed a cup of coffee from the counter. "You're both more than a bit stupid."

John, looking a bit uncomfortable, decided to both be the first to speak, and change the subject, "So when do you start work."

I smiled at him, "Monday, which can't come soon enough." He chuckled a bit while I paused. I looked down at myself and made a face. "I think I need a shower." I said and walked to Sherlock's room to get new clothes. I heard the door close behind me as I started going through a drawer looking for new socks. I sighed.

"Look, Sherlock, I'm sorry. I lost my temper and I had no actual reason to."

"I don't understand." He looked like it pained him to say those words.

"Irene was never any of my business, John mentioned her when you were gone because he was clutching to happy memories. I shouldn't have even known who it was who had texted me last night. The fact that she's supposed to be dead and isn't shouldn't surprise me at all."

"But it still bothers you?"

"I'm not bothered that she's alive, well not completely. I'm bothered that the only woman who has ever gotten to you is still around. And, though John has told me so much, and you have shown me bits of yourself, I still don't know you at all." _Yet I'm falling in love with you without even trying,_ I said to myself with a sad smile.

I finished grabbing clothes and went to the bathroom to take my shower. After locking the door I stood staring at my reflection in the mirror for a while. John had told me about how beautiful Irene was. Even without makeup she was a vision.

I knew I was beautiful. Long brown hair, almond shaped brown eyes. A thin lovely face. My nose might be a bit too wide at the base, and my lips were not as full as most, but I still looked alright. But I was no vision. I undressed and looked at my scars. I had three over my pelvic bone, two under my left breast, and one going all the way down my right side. They had all been made to look like surgical cuts, but they hadn't been. They had been where the men holding me had cut into me while torturing me. That hadn't been the worst of it, my right foot had no living nerves anymore, though it looked just as well as my left. It had been burned beyond recognition, but Mycroft had paid for it to be repaired as well as it could. I had told him I didn't want all my scars gone, but now I was thinking I should have gone ahead and had the surguries to fix them. How could any man ever overlook them?

I shoved all thoughts of the past and possible future out of my mind, and took my shower.

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**Promise next chapter will be longer, even if I have to combine 2.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Had to combine two to make this one longer... Only did it because I love you guys. and I promised I would if I needed to.**

* * *

After my shower I went to the living room and sat on the couch. I grabbed my new phone and started looking it over. New model, barely on the market, sleek and black. I opened it up and set up a screen lock, not that it would do me any good. Then looked through my contacts. Mycroft had not been added when my contacts had been moved over, but everyone else was still there. I didn't know many people here in London, but the emails of the few people I tried to keep in touch with back in America were still there. No pictures, no ringtones. So not everything had been transferred. I grabbed my laptop and hooked the phone to it and set about giving it a personality.

Sherlock walked in and I glanced up for a moment. "Thanks for the phone." I said softly, and went back to syncing things up.

"It was no trouble," He said as he sat next to me. I scooted slightly away, leaving space between us, but didn't look at him again. "We really should finish our discussion from yesterday."

"I'm sure we shouldn't." I said even quieter than before.

"Why's that?"

I sighed and sat up straight, abandoning phone and laptop on the table in front of us.

"Because, Sherlock, it would never work, experiment or relationship."

"And you've come to this conclusion in the past 24 hours how?" He looked genuinely confused.

"I came to this conclusion in the past hour. I took a good hard look at myself and realized I no longer have anything to offer anyone. I'm too damaged, and I hurt too easily. I would drive myself insane trying to war with my emotions."

"Everyone thinks I have no clue about love and other emotions. I was convienced I loved Irene Adler for all of a minute, but I realized I was merely lusting after her. I feel lust for you, but I also care about you." He said looking thoughtful. "I don't want to take anything from you. But you have much to offer."

I shook my head and started to stand, but he grabbed my wrist, "I know you have demons, everyone does. But aren't they easier to get past when you have someone who is there for you?"

"Is that supposed to be you? A sociopath by self-diognosis? Who can't even figure out how to treat his best friend?"

"I guess not, but I could try."

"Why should you? You barely know me, and I will probably never actually know you." I walked away without waiting for an answer, I didn't want to talk to John so I sat in the kitchen. I could always ask Mrs. Hudson about the flat in the basement, then my over protective friends wouldn't have a cow about me moving out.

Sherlock walked into the kitchen a bit shyly. He kept his eyes on me and walked around to one of his experiments, and started putting it away.

"Was that one finished?" I asked. He just shook his head. "Well, why are you putting it away?"

"You're thinking about moving out, I want you to be comfortable here."

"I never said I was thinking about moving away."

"You didn't have to."

I got back up, "I was just going to ask Mrs. Hudson about the basement flat."

"You don't need to be stuck in some basement when you can stay here."

"I can't stay here Sherlock." I said quietly.

"Sure you can. I barely sleep, so you can have my room. And John won't mind me sleeping in his bed when I do sleep because he won't be in it."

"He would too mind, and that's not the point, I'm not sleeping in your bed anymore."

"Why? It's a bed, it's comfortable, and it's in a private bedroom."

I sighed, I've been sighing a lot since he popped back up, "Sherlock I do not want to sleep in your room again."

He looked like I had just shot his puppy. No, he'd probably want to do experiments on it's corpse had I shot a puppy, he looked like I had just shot John.

"You really are nothing like John described." I said.

"I was once, but now I want to be different, I want to be better. I want to be the friend he needs, and now I've met you, I want to be someone who can be counted on."

"You work on that, and then we'll talk alright? But I'm still not sleeping in your room."

* * *

I started work the following Monday, the couch was doing nothing for my back, but I hadn't bothered talking to Mrs. Hudson about the other flat. I texted John details of most of our cases, just to try and keep Sherlock from being too bored. Most were even too simple for us though. Domestic cases, burglary, open and shut. I remembered why I had quit to do something more exciting in the first place. But the work suited me just fine, even when it was too easy. It went on for about 5 months like that, Sherlock helped now and then we genuinely had trouble figuring things out, but that didn't happen too often, at least not often enough for Sherlock.

John had met a woman, her name was Mary. He spent a lot of time away from Sherlock and I lately, but we were happy for him.

I started bringing home cold cases, desperate to avoid a future conversation steering toward a relationship with Sherlock. He helped out on a few, but I was rather good at figuring out what bits the rest of the team had missed. Eventually we ran out of those, and that brings us to the present.

I was sitting at my laptop writing up my most recent case report to email to Lestrade and Sherlock came in and sat down in his chair. I started typing slower, but realized I was being childish and finished the report.

"Talk right?" I asked and he nodded.

"You really have come a long way. You've been an excellent friend to John, haven't ruined his current relationship, whether you normally try or not I don't want to know. And you have been there for me when I needed your help on cases that we couldn't quite solve. But that's not really a basis for a relationship."

"A relationship between a police officer and a consulting detective." He mentioned like those were very important details.

"Yes well, I suppose crime solving would be a basis for that yes, but I'm not just a police officer, and you are not just a consulting detective." I started groping my pockets for a cigarette, momentarily forgetting that John had convinced me to quit shortly after we had met.

To my knowledge John hadn't told Sherlock I used to smoke, but the man took out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter and walked over to me none-the-less. I took one and nodded to him, he lit it for me and took his own.

"John's going to be pissed when he comes back and the flat smells like smoke." I said with a touch of humor.

Sherlock chuckled, "He thinks my bribe to everyone around to not sell to me still stands, he probably won't notice anyway."

I did feel kind of bad using the ashtray they had stolen from the palace, but why have something you're not going to use.

We sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, I wasn't sure what else to say. How do you discuss a relationship with a sociopath? He wasn't a sociopath, not really, but he believed he was, at least he used to.

"I know I'm not a sociopath, thinking I was just helped detach myself from people."

I jumped a bit, "How the hell do you do that?"

"I can't read your mind Lia, I can read your body language and your facial expressions. Then I take an educated guess at what you're thinking about, and if I'm sure I'm correct I say what I think would be best to say."

"Alright, so how do we go about discussing all this?"

"I say we don't."

I cringed a bit, "You change your mind fast."

He smiled, "No, I mean we just see where it goes, no need to talk it to death yeah?"

"We will have to talk some time Sherlock."

"Yes but," He leaned in, "Not right now." And he kissed me. Much like he had on New Years.

My eyes went wide, then I relaxed and kissed him back. Before we'd even really got started he pulled away and stood up. His phone went off about a millisecond before mine did.

**Need your help.-GL**

**Where and why?-LW**

Sherlock was typing on his phone too, I figured Lestrade had sent him the same text.

**Hospital, mass suicide.-GL**

"For the love of-" I started.

"Another batch of suicides? We got rid of the crazy cabbie." Sherlock said looking down at his phone.

"Yeah well, mass and serial are a bit different."

"I know that."

"Well do you have any ideas?"

"A few, you?"

"One or two."

We grabbed our coats, and I grabbed my badge and gun, and left the flat, I texted John on the way.

**Mass suicides at hospital, come if you want.-LW**

I didn't wait for a reply, just got into a cab with Sherlock who was still typing away on his phone.

Once we got to the hospital John was already there, Mary in tow.

"John... We all love Mary, but mass suicides is not a date." I said giving him a confused look.

"She wanted to see Sherlock in action."

"You could always film him on your phone, don't subject your girlfriend to a crime scene."

"It really was my idea," Mary piped in.

"Well now I'm scared of you Mary." I joked. "A woman who isn't a cop wants to see a crime scene? Not usually normal, but we'll see if we can make an exception for you yeah?"

Lestrade ushered us in, Mary too, he was getting used to large parties it seemed. He led us to one of the hospital rooms.

"This one hung themselves from the curtain rod." He said, and started toward the next room.

"This one pinched off his IV drip so his medication would not get into his system." Off to another room.

"And this one slit her wrists with her IV needle." He looked like he was going to start toward another room.

"Greg wait, is there any connection other than the hospital itself?" I asked.

"No." He said, and started walking toward the elevator. "There are two more on the next floor up, and five on the floor above that."

I looked at Sherlock, but he was lost in thought following Lestrade.

On the next floor we ran into Sally, and she smirked at Sherlock, but kept her mouth shut. I turned to look at John and Mary, John looked horrified, but Mary looked like she was used to so much death at once. She was a doctor after all, I don't know what I expected. I would have to talk to John later, all this suicide, not good for him.

I turned back to the roped off rooms and looked in, one had smashed their own head into a mirror until they passed out, and had died of either the blood loss or blunt force trama.

"Why wasn't this one found and given medical attention the minute the banging started?" I asked.

"That's what we're trying to figure out now." Sally said behind me.

The second had drowned herself in the bathroom sink.

"Do we really need to see the next floor?" John asked.

"No John, you and Mary go do something that has nothing to do with death." I said ushering them to the elevator, "I'll let you know how it goes."

Lestrade, Sherlock and I went to the other elevator and went up to the next floor.

Another sink drowning, two hangings, someone had gotten a hold of a piece of glass, and the last had seemed to electrocute themselves on one of the machines surrounding the bed.

"All of my ideas are gone." I said to Sherlock.

"I still have a few," He smiled at me. "Only one was suicide, the rest were murders."

"Which was the actual suicide?" Lestrade asked.

"The lady who cut her wrists with her IV needle." I said.

Sherlock and Lestrade both looked at me. "If someone were to drag a needle across your wrist hard enough to cut, you would fight back, if you do it yourself you stay still. The mirror was sharp enough to make one large gash and leave." I pointed to the one with a wrist slit open by the mirror.

"Whoever did it not only had medical training, but also knew when to kill a large number of people without being noticed." Sherlock started.

"So we have to question the staff." I finished.

Lestrade smiled at us and went to round up the medical staff.

"Do you think it was someone on duty or someone who had the day off?" I asked Sherlock.

"Off duty more than likely, alibi becomes easier to come by then." He said. "Possibly someone associated with the actual suicide. A relative or loved one who either works at this hospital or another." He would have normally left by now, as he'd given everything but the murder's identification up. And he'd still have to think on that I'm sure. But instead he stayed by my side as I inspected each crime scene.

"You're hovering." I said quietly. "People will notice and you'll lose your sociopath status among this lot."

"You and John seem to care a lot about what other people think." He replied.

I didn't have a chance to answer as Lestrade came back up to us. "Everyone who isn't needed is being taken down to the station to be questioned, once they've been cleared an officer will bring them back and bring another to us." He paused, "We're also bringing in all of the suicide victim's family and friends in, so we'll get a read on them as well."

"If we don't get anywhere we can get the rest of the victims' family members and friends as well." I said. Lestrade nodded and headed out of the hospital.

"I'll meet you at the station." He said before he got into his squad car with three nurses in the back seat.

I found myself taking a cab, as I hadn't actually been on duty that day, therefore had no squad car to take. A few nurses and a doctor came with me, wanting to get the questioning over with. Sherlock met us at the New Scotland Yard. He had somehow ended up with a couple doctors of his own.

I sat everyone who wasn't currently being questioned in a room and offered them all coffee and tea, along with promises that they could get back to work very soon. Sherlock watched Lestrade question each nurse and doctor, and took a turn at some himself, I just sat in the room with an entire medical staff starting to glare at me, like it was my fault one of them had murdered nine people.

For every nurse and doctor that was let go, more came in, along with a few family members and friends of the victims. After about four hours of questioning, Lestrade had grown tired.

"Williams, can you take over for a bit?" He asked.

"Sure, how many more are there?" I asked in return.

He looked down at his notes and grimaced, "Twenty or more."

I mirrored his face, "You go get some sleep, I'll make sure all of the interrogations are recorded, and I'm sure Donovan will take over when she gets here."

I started questioning people, so far everyone had solid alibis, but about eight people in I came across a very suspicious doctor. His alibi had not been a good one. He said he had been playing golf, alone, on his personal course.

"Can anyone verify you were there?" I asked.

"I doubt it," He said coolly.

I pulled out my phone and started texting.

**Found a suspicious one.-LW**

I sent it to both Sherlock and Lestrade.

"Doctor Ashford, you do know that without a valid alibi you become the main suspect?" I asked him.

He never lost his cool demeanor, "That does not mean I killed anyone."

"Yes well, the facts will tell us whether or not you killed anyone." I said just as coolly.

I walked out of the room and looked at the rest of the people we still had to question. I knew we would actually have to go through all of them to make sure we didn't miss anything, but luckily for me Sally walked in.

"Hey, Sally, I need you to question some of these people so we can get through this quickly. I don't want them wasting their time here if they are innocent." I said quickly, handing her the list of people who had yet to be questioned. "Lestrade will be here soon to take over questioning Doctor Ashford, and then I'll take a few more off your hands."

"That's fine," She said as she ushered a young woman into the other interigation room. She seemed to be still avoiding me. Reasonable, I did threaten to punch her.

Sherlock and Lestrade walked in shortly after her and I gave Lestrade my notes from questioning Doctor Ashford. "He's still in there, he gives me the creeps a bit to be honest." I said as Lestrade started walking to the room.

I turned to Sherlock, "You'll probably get to go at him soon too. He really hasn't got a solid alibi, but maybe you can tell me if he's been golfing in the past 24 hours." I smiled at him.

"I will let you know." He said with a slight smile as he turned to look at the rest of the people we had waiting. "Those three women, and those two men are completely innocent." He said pointing to a few people toward the back of the room.

"Well let me go and get their alibis, then I'll let them go." I went and spoke to them each in turn, they had all five been at a party when the killings occurred, the same party most of the family members of the electrocution victim had been at. They even went so far as to show me time-stamped photos. Convenient. But I couldn't argue with a solid alibi, and Sherlock had just said they were innocent, so I let them go. That left five more people in the waiting area, none of which were medical staff. I took them each aside and started asking where they had been when all those people had been murdered, once I was finished I was down to one person without a solid aliby.

Donovan had finished questioning the woman she had taken in, and I sent the last man to her. Sherlock and I sat in silence for a while waiting on Lestrade to allow him to speak to the doctor. Once he did Lestrade sent me home.

I took a cab back to the flat and sat myself down on the couch. John and Mary came in shortly after.

"I need to talk to John if you don't mind Mary." I said before John had started up the stairs to his room.

"Alright, I'll wait upstairs," She said turning to him.

He came over and sat on the couch next to me.

"Next time I say mass suicide, you say 'No Thanks.' and go about doing whatever it is you're doing." I said calmly.

"I didn't know it would hit me that hard." He said.

"I didn't either or I wouldn't have asked you along." I replied, "But from now on, no suicide cases for you yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Now you go have fun with your girlfriend." I smiled at him.

"More than that soon I hope," He said pulling a velvet box from his coat pocket.

"John Watson, you had better not have just told me before you told Sherlock." I said accusingly.

He lowered his head, "Oops."

I laughed, "Don't worry, I won't tell him, but you had better." I hugged him, "Now you put that away and go upstairs." He started to then sniffed the air.

"Is that cigarette smoke?" He asked.

"Er... Possibly." I said guiltily.

"Which one of you?"

"Both of us." I said.

He shook his head and went to his room.

I started typing notes for the case on my laptop, hoping the creepy doctor had actually done it and it wasn't the nice young man I had sent to Sally before I left. I would probably find out when Sherlock got home.

* * *

**And now John is uncomfortable at a crime scene, I know it's not what you want, but I figured it'd be a good idea to keep him away from suicides.**


	11. Chapter 11

**More Irene and a bit of Lia's ex as well... Some parts they all sound like teenagers for some reason, sorry.**

* * *

I had fallen asleep on the couch. I woke to the sound of someone entering the flat. I put my hand on my gun at my side and listened to the intruder's footfalls. Much too light to be Sherlock, and John and Mary were both upstairs.

The intruder started toward the kitchen and I slowly stood up drawing my gun and walking over to the light switch. When I flicked it on a tall, beautiful woman turned around in alarm.

I lowered my gun, "Adler I presume?"

"Uh, yes actually." She said quietly.

"And you're doing what in our flat?" I asked, purposefully including myself in the ownership of the flat, though to anyone else I would have referred to it as Sherlock's or John's.

"Looking for Sherlock of course."

"Why?"

"Because I need his help."

"And you think you can just come here and ask for help when, by all rights, you should be dead?"

"He is the one who saved my life." She said.

"Everyone makes mistakes."

"Yes, I know." She said eyeing me like I was little more than garbage.

We heard footsteps on the stairs and she ducked into the kitchen.

"The doctor did it." Sherlock said when he reached the door. "Now where were we this afternoon?" He asked grabbing my arm and starting to drag me toward the kitchen.

He paused when he noticed I had my gun in my hand.

"We have a visitor." I said spitefully.

"Ah. As you didn't shoot them, I assume you somehow recognized them?"

"Through description yes."

"Who is it then?"

"She is either in the kitchen, or has by now made it to your bedroom." I said pulling my arm from his hand. "Says she needs your _help_ with something."

He rolled his eyes at my obvious jealousy and started toward the kitchen as Irene popped her head around the doorway.

"Aren't you supposed to be hiding?" He asked her in a tone that said he really wished she would leave. Or maybe that's the tone I hoped he was using.

"That's what I need your help with. Your brother seems to have found me."

"Why don't you actually go to America then and get yourself put into witness protection?" He suggested.

"Can't."

I rolled my eyes and went downstairs to sit with Mrs. Hudson. I knew she was still awake because I could hear her TV from the top of the stairs.

"What's wrong dear?" She asked when she saw me, turning down the television.

"The infamous Woman is back." I said sighing and flopping onto her couch. "Can I sleep on your couch tonight and look at the basement flat in the morning?"

"I thought you'd given up on moving out of the boys' flat." She said encouragingly.

"I had, kind of, but this is too much. Everything turns up Adler when I think Sherlock and I are getting closer to a relationship."

"So, because some woman from his past keeps butting her head in, you're going to be stuborn and take yourself out of the equation."

"I am stubborn though." I said.

"Yes I know dear. But you're also not a quitter."

I sighed, I knew she was right, but I hadn't actually started anything, Sherlock and I had only talked. So logically there was nothing to quit.

"I can't compete with that woman."

"You don't have to. Sherlock will never trust her again, he's too smart for that. He may have saved her life, but that's as far as he'll go for her. He's willing to turn around completely for you."

"I don't want him to be different, I want him to be himself. But I also don't want to get hurt. Irene Adler just seems to like to pop up all over the place though."

I heard the door to the flat slam upstairs and got up to look out into the hallway. Irene was storming out of the place like she had fire on her heels.

"Er, maybe not so much anymore then." I said to Mrs. Hudson.

"Go back upstairs and I'll make some tea."

"That's alright Mrs. Hudson, you should probably get some sleep." I left her to watch her television, I knew she wasn't going to bed anytime soon.

I went back upstairs and walked into the flat. Sherlock was in his chair holding his violin, John and Mary were racing down the stairs to see what all the fuss had been.

I sat down in John's chair so the couple could sit together on the couch. They both looked at me expectantly.

"I didn't slam the door." I turned to Sherlock, "I just got back upstairs."

They turned to Sherlock as well.

"Irene Adler slammed the door on her way out." He said cooly.

"Oh." John said amused.

"Who's that?" Mary started but John shook his head at her, "Never mind." She said.

"No Mary, the question is a good one. I don't think I fully know myself." I said still staring at Sherlock.

He sighed and started playing his violin, so John, Mary, and myself went to sit in the kitchen.

"Irene Adler is, was, the only woman who had ever made Sherlock feel anything. Before Lia came along that is." John said to Mary.

I rolled my eyes, "Just because he says he doesn't feel something, doesn't mean he doesn't feel something. He's admitted he's not a sociopath, he just tries to play the part." I smiled a little.

"Oh," Mary said in sudden realization, "You're not actually mad at Sherlock you're just jealous so you want him to think you're angry."

"Wow the brain on this one," I stated under my breath. "Yeah, he knows it, I know it. I don't think he wants to confront jealousy as an emotion just yet, so he's avoiding it all together."

My phone beeped just then and I fished it out of my pocket.

**Someone came to London just to see you Ms. Williams.-MH**

**I'm not even going to ask how you got this number. Who?-LW**

**One Mr. Jared Barclay.-MH**

"Well, looks like he may just have to face the emotion head on." I said with a hint of discust.

"How so?" Asked John.

I handed him my phone.

"Jared Barclay? Your ex-fiance Jared?" He asked, his face screwing up a bit.

I nodded, "That'd be the one." I took my phone back.

**Where is he?-LW**

**In a hotel right now, but he'll be at Speedy's tomorrow around 10.-MH**

"Who wants to go to Speedy's with me tomorrow?" I asked, hoping at least one of them would accompany me.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world, I'll go see if Sherlock wants to come along," John said, and my eyes went wide.

"I'll stop him," Mary said as she raced through the doorway after him.

I followed quickly behind, Mary and I had been too late. John was telling Sherlock all about it.

"He'll be meeting with her at Speedy's tomorrow. Somehow he got ahold of Mycroft to try and find her." John was saying as we stepped into the room.

"What time?" Sherlock asked.

"Well now that I'm the only one who knows maybe I'll be the only one who goes tomorrow," I glared at John, "Or maybe I'll just take Mary with me."

"Don't be like that," John said, "Sherlock will surely want to meet him."

"I don't even want to see him why would Sherlock want to meet him?" I asked.

"To understand how you feel about Irene popping up unannounced." Mary said, going to John's defense.

"Thanks Mary," I said sarcastically. "Alone it is then." I turned to go back to the kitchen and text Mycroft.

**I'll be there.-LW**

**Anyone else joining you?-MH**

**Not if I can help it.-LW**

I deleted the messages and turned off my phone. I went about making myself some tea when Sherlock came in and walked up behind me.

"I'm already jealous," He said with a small smile.

I snorted a laugh, "Yeah, of course you are. Where Irene wants not only protection, but you as well, Jared will only want money."

"What makes you think she wants me?"

"When she came in she was headed straight for your bedroom. Not your chair, not the kitchen table, your bedroom."

"If he's short on money how did he make it to London?"

"We had open ended tickets that don't expire for another year." I explained. "We were going to have a small vacation here as soon as our daughter was feeling better, but she died and we split."

"Is it a round trip ticket?"

"Nope."

"So he'll need money anyway to leave?"

"Yep." I sighed.

"What if he isn't after money?"

"What else could he possibly be after?"

"You of course."

I laughed hard this time, "Doubt it."

"Why's that?" Sherlock asked confused.

"Because ever since he saw these, he hasn't wanted anything to do with me again," I raised my shirt to show a few of my scars. "They were pretty fresh when he saw them. We had already been apart for a few months, and I had still been in the habbit of changing in front of him. He was mainly afraid someone would come after him." I scoffed at that, "Though he's even more stupid than I ever thought to even think he would be a blip on anyone's radar."

Sherlock came over and started tracing the scar that ran down my side, "Well maybe he's changed his mind." I shivered and tried to pull my shirt back down.

"Even if he had, which I still don't think is possible," I said, moving his hand away, "I don't want him back anyway."

"Hm." He got that look like he was deep in thought, but he was still looking down where I had just covered the scar back up. "Who did that?"

"No one who is still alive," I said, then rolled my eyes. "Unless they're like you and Irene, then I may have something to worry about. They were rather smart."

"My brother had them disposed of then?"

I nodded, those were Mycrofts exact words. I found it a bit distasteful, but I found the men who had tortured me a bit more than distasteful, so I didn't really care what words people used.

"Then they are gone. It would have taken myself saving them for Mycroft to have slipped up on something like this."

"You mean like you saved Irene?" I asked as I moved away from him.

"Well, yes." He said slightly taken aback. "She didn't deserve to die Lia."

"The one thing John always hated was your lack of care for human life. Why was hers any different?"

"She almost matched me in wit."

"Your own brother barely almost matches you in wit."

"Thank you." He smiled.

"Ugh, God, Sherlock, it wasn't meant to be a compliment."

He frowned, "Well then what was it?"

"It was me trying to make the point that, while I have an above average IQ, I'm not a genius, not really. I can observe certain things from people sure, but I don't bother half the time. I don't want to even attempt to compete with you in the wit department. I just want to live my life and if it happens to involve you, that's great, but I don't want verbal sparring matches all the time."

He just stared at me as though he were trying to look into my brain to better understand what I was saying.

"I asked Mrs. Hudson about the basement apartment, but she told me I should at least try to figure all of this out." I waved a hand between the two of us.

"I'm sexually attracted to you, you're sexually attracted to me, I hardly see what there is to figure out."

"That was romantic," I rolled my eyes. "I don't want you to change yourself, but could you at least pretend you actually believe you're not a sociopath? There is a lot to figure out."

"Like what?"

I rolled my eyes at him and sat down at the table, "Three years may have changed your outlook on life and getting involved in relationships, but it did nothing for your understanding of relationships in any form."

Sherlock looked insulted, "I understand them well enough."

"Apparently not with your summary of why we should go to bed together."

He simply walked into the living room and sat in his chair. Mary and John having gone back upstairs I sat on the couch waiting to see if he would actually reply.

When it was clear he wouldn't I turned on the Television. I fell asleep pretending to watch a movie.

I woke to an empty flat. John and Mary had gone to her home, and God only knows where Sherlock got off to. He was probably sitting at or around Speedy's waiting for me to meet with Jared.

I showered and dressed in a professional pant suit as though I were going to a meeting with Mycroft, rather than meeting an ex at a café.

I walked to Speedy's an hour earlier than my meeting with Jared and spotted Sherlock right away. He was standing outside, waiting.

"If you're waiting for me you can go home." I said flatly.

"I want to make sure you're alright." He said, attempting to sound the part of a concerned boyfriend. Must've read one of my mother's romance novels. "Skimmed through all of them actually." He said, as though he could read my mind.

I smirked at him, "You know those are all fictional, and love does not really work like that right?" The same words I had said to my mother every time she opened a book.

"It could." Sherlock retorted.

I rolled my eyes and started toward the door, "Go home, he's meeting me in an hour, and I'm sure it'll only take about thirty minutes. I'll give him the money to get home, and send him on his way."

"I still don't think he's only here for money."

"I do. It's the only thing that matters to him. His parents cut him off after we divorced, so he comes to me for money every chance he gets."

Sherlock opened the door for me and waited for me to enter, he didn't speak again until we were seated by the window, "I'll just wait for him to show up, then let you two have your peace." He said without making eye contact.

"Alright." I knew it was a bad idea, but while my jealousy of Irene had not disipated a bit, I still wanted to be close to Sherlock, especially if I would have to deal with Jared today.

Sherlock smiled at me then watched out the window.

For the next hour I tried to make small talk, but Sherlock's eyes could not be torn from the traffic outside. About two minutes until 10am my phone buzzed.

**I've sent him in one of my cars. -MH**

I saw a sleek black car roll up outside and I stiffened. Jared stepped out and walked toward the door.

**Oh, almost forgot, I hired him yesterday. -MH**

"Son of a bitch." I muttered.

"What?" Sherlock finally turned to look at me.

"Your brother." I stood as the door opened and Jared entered. "Jared, this is Sherlock, your new boss's brother. Sherlock, this is Jared."

Sherlock stood and the two men sized each other up before Jared offered his hand for Sherlock to shake, "Pleasure to meet you Mr. Holmes."

"I highly doubt that," Sherlock ignored the hand and turned to me. "I'll be right outside if you need me." He leaned in to kiss me and smiled. I rolled my eyes at him but smiled back.

When he was gone Jared sat in the seat he had vacated and looked at me expectantly.

"Well if you're working for Mycroft Holmes I doubt you'll be needing money, what do you want?" I stayed standing, ready to walk out should I need to.

"Do I need a reason to visit my favorite girl?" He asked smugly.

"I am not your _girl, _you ended anything romantic between us ages ago." I stated dryly.

"Doesn't mean you're not my favorite." He smiled. It was a smile that used to melt my heart, now it made me feel cold all over.

"_What do you want?_" I asked again, anger seeping through.

"Well I wanted to see if you knew where I should get an apartment here in London." He said, trying to look innocent.

"I don't care _where_ you get a flat so long as you stay away from me." I turned and walked out the door, bumping into Sherlock, who had been about to go in.

"You were watching then?" I asked, visibly relaxing with him around.

"Yes." He said while looking over the top of my head, in the direction of Jared, who could still hear us. "Shall we go home then?

"Yes, please." I said, looping my arm in his and walking toward the flat. I had figured out from Jared's remark about my being his _favorite girl_ that Sherlock had been right, he wanted me back. I didn't say so out loud, and Sherlock didn't ask. Maybe all those romance novels did teach him a thing or two.


	12. Chapter 12

**I know I'm posting this like 2 hours later than normal, but I was working on it those two hours... I hope this chapter is satisfactory. Still love you all, I'm not giving up writing this fic until it's completely done, promise.**

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We got back to the flat and our phones beeped before we had even walked through the door.

Possible homicide at Garrick House Office building, 26 Southhampton St. -GL

"You get the office homicide too?" I asked Sherlock, turning around to get a cab.

"No, Mycroft, but I'd much rather an office homicide." He said flagging down the first cab he saw and opening the door, "After you."

I gave the cabbie the address and we were off, Sherlock sat in silence, probably visiting his mind palace like he does on occasion.

When we got to the scene and looked around bot Sherlock and I sighed in exasperation.

"What is it?" Lestrade asked worriedly.

"You all are so thick aren't you?" Sherlock sighed again.

"I thought we were a homocide unit, not suicide unit. Why is every case I've been on so far about suicides in some way?" I said walking to the waste basket and fishing out the gun with my gloved hands. "He shot himself, and whoever discovered his body didn't want it getting out that he was suicidal, so they threw away the gun. Not in a very smart place, but they tried."

"How do you know it was suicide?" Donovan asked coming up behind me.

"One, a killer wouldn't throw the gun away in the same room they shot the victim in. Two, the GSR on his hands and temple could be a clue. And three," I pulled out a crumpled letter from the bottom of the basket. "He wrote a suicide note."

Sherlock and Lestrade stared at me in awe, and Donovan looked like she'd found a new person to throw her hateful words toward. "Since I'm the only one actually on the team who figured everything out, I'm going to have to file the report aren't I?" I turned to Lestrade to avoid punching Sally in the face.

He shook his head and smiled, "That's how it works."

"Fine, it'll be on your desk in the morning. I just can't catch a break today." I placed the gun and note in evidence bags and handed them to Anderson. "I'm going home."

"Wait, who do you think threw away the gun and the note?" Sally asked, hoping to pin an obstruction charge on someone probably.

"I don't know, don't rightly care right now, interview his wife, coworkers, and secretary. I'm not a one woman show." I sighed.

"Secretary." Sherlock said simply before grabbing my hand and leading me back out of the building.

"Thanks." I said when we got to the curb.

"For what? You solved the case, all on your own." Sherlock said grinning at me.

"Yes, but I'm sure I missed something, and you didn't point it out. So thank you."

"Well the secretary bit, yeah. But other than that you were spot on." He waved down a cab and we headed back home.

When we got to the flat the living room was full of people. Mary and John were on the couch, Mrs. Hudson was standing next to the door waiting for us to get there, and Mycroft and Jared were seated in Sherlock and John's chairs.

"Five freaking minutes, is that too damn much to ask for." I said grabbing my laptop and walking to the kitchen.

John, Mary, and Mrs. Hudson followed me, while Sherlock could be heard loudly expressing how unwelcome the unwanted company was.

"Are you alright Dearie?" Mrs. Hudson asked sweetly.

"Yes, I'm fine. Just a long day is all." I smiled warmly at her.

"I'll get you some tea, you sit down and rest." She said and headed to her flat to put on a kettle.

"Hey, you're not our housekeeper." I hollered at her with a laugh, she laughed it off and continued on her way.

I sat down and started typing up the report I promised Lestrade.

"So Jared works for Mycroft? How'd that happen?" John asked.

I sighed, "Jared was military for a while, and when he was stationed in Iraq he was a professional interigator." I said, giving John a 'you know what I mean but don't you dare say it outloud' look.

"Oh... Wow." John said simply. "Still doesn't explain what Mycroft would want with him."

"Mycroft wants whatever keeps almost happening between me and Sherlock to never happen. He seems to have thought Jared would get the job done."

Mary's face scrunched up at that, "Mycroft is an idiot."

John and I chuckled, "Oh yes, we know." I said.

"Don't let on that you know though, or he'll try to get clever with you." John warned. The three of us laughed and the living room went silent. Suddenly there were three men standing in the doorway.

"What's so amusing?" Mycroft asked, looking uninterested.

"They were probably talking about you dear brother." Sherlock replied, walking over to sit with us.

John and Mary smiled at each other, then at me. I returned the smile, and then turned back to my report.

"Been a long time since I've heard you laugh Lia." Jared said happily.

"Well, haven't had a reason to be happy in quite a while Jared." I replied coldly, not looking up from my computer. Sherlock put his hand on my knee.

"Finish the report later, go lie down, you've had quite a day." He said, slowly closing the laptop with his free hand.

"Yeah, alright." I knew he meant to go to his room, and there was no way I could argue with his brother and my ex standing right there without them thinking they had a chance. He knew it too. To make the two unwanted men even more uncomfortable I leaned over to kiss Sherlock on the cheek before getting up and heading to his bedroom.

As I changed into some sweats to nap in, I heard the flat go completely silent. A few moments later the front door was closing and John and Mary could be heard going up the stairs.

"Where'd Lia run off to?" I heard Mrs. Hudson ask Sherlock.

"She needed a nap, long day and all." He said, "But thank you for bringing her some tea, that was very thoughtful."

"It's nothing." She replied, before leaving the flat herself.

I lied down on the bed and made myself comfortable, but I couldn't get to sleep.

After an hour of trying I went back to the kitchen. Sherlock was doing an experiment at the table.

"Human or pig?" I asked, knowing it was neither. He was mixing chemicals.

He looked up with a quizzical expression. "Ah. You were making a joke."

"Yes, sometimes I try to be funny. Only works when Mycroft is the butt of my jokes though." I said with a smile.

"Yes, what did you guys say about him earlier that was so hilarious," He asked leaning back against the counter.

"Just the truth, he's not as smart as he'd like to think. We just let Mary know she shouldn't let on that she knows, John told her he'd try to get clever with her." I smiled slightly at that.

"Well that is true. So you can't sleep?" He was looking at me quizzically again, how can a genius look so confused sometimes?

"Nope, tried, failed." I sighed. "I figured I'd come finish writing up that report and try again later."

He passed me my laptop and went back to working on his experiment. Once I had written up my report I hit print and looked up from my laptop. Sherlock was just standing there looking at me. I closed my laptop and walked around the table.

"You know, I think you did really well with the whole 'trying to be compassionate' thing today." I stopped in front of him. "I didn't know you'd actually take fictions crap like my mother's books and use it in a way you were comfortable with."

"Well it was quite easy to see which parts were absolute crap. Even I know enough about love and sentiment to know that if you impregnate a woman and come back five years later she'll more than likely hate you for life." He said, face scrunched up.

I laughed, "Yeah, that was mom's favorite book. I don't know why, my dad was always around."

"Was her's?" He asked looking like he'd just deduced something interesting.

"No, he died before she was born, he was deployed shortly after my grandmother got pregnant." I replied. "Enough about my family, we were talking about you."

"Talking about me isn't one of my strengths." He admitted a bit reluctantly.

"Well how about I keep praising your ability to actually learn something from crap fiction and you just stand there and smile then?" I said smiling.

"Or we could see what else I've learned from those crap novels." He grinned at me mischievously.

"How about you _delete _that bit, and learn from doing like the rest of the world?" I said, pushing him up against the counter.

"I could do that," He smiled down at me, "But some of it actually sounded fun."

I rolled my eyes, "Yeah, I'm sure. Come on Romeo, time for both of us to get some sleep."

His eyes went wide for a moment, but he followed me to the bedroom anyway. I waited for his breathing to even out before even attempting to fall asleep myself.

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**Yeah Lia's a bit of a tease in this one, sorry, I thought about making it happen, but I thought "One good day together, no fighting, doesn't mean they'd jump straight into bed." so yeah, sorry**


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